


Against the Works of the Flesh

by happilyappled



Series: Faith, Heart and Flesh [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Catholic Character, M/M, Religious Themes, Roman Catholicism, priest!Gerard, virgin!Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyappled/pseuds/happilyappled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero is the gay teenager who, after coming out to his Catholic family, faces trouble in finding himself and fitting in. He will find himself, though, through Father Way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Works of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Check the Bonus Material for this story. See what the characters might look like. Listen to their soundtrack. Then, enjoy.
> 
> [Art](http://happilyappled.livejournal.com/41916.html#cutid2) by [sparklefap](http://sparklefap.livejournal.com/).
> 
> [Mix](http://happilyappled.livejournal.com/41916.html#cutid1) by [eflorentino](http://eflorentino.livejournal.com/).

> _So then indeed I, of myself with the mind and heart, serve the Law of God, but with the flesh the law of sin. — Romans 7:25._

"Fuck."

Frank moans. He's got his mouth mashed against the side of this guy's head. His hair is dark and short, scruffy against Frank's mouth. The guy moans back with a muffled growl, his face hidden on Frank's neck as he jacks Frank's cock off.

Frank can't see his face, and doesn't remember ever having seen it, but his hands feel very powerful. His palms are large and his fingers long, but the most impressive feature of the hands is their firm movements.

Frank has never felt like this before. It's too intense to be a dream and still, this faceless guy has been in Frank's dreams for over a year.

"You're so fucking good," he moans in response, falling back on the couch and relaxing. He wants to enjoy this. After all, there's someone else touching his cock for him and that is something pretty new in Frank's life. He's in his last year of High School, but the fact that he's not into girls and that he's been in the closet until last week hasn't guaranteed him much action except for a few sporadic kisses.

The guy mumbles something against his neck, but Frank can't even hear him right. The guy's hand slides in that perfect angle and he feels like he's in a rollercoaster or experiencing a major sensory overload.

He just moans and moans, and comes. Dream Guy is pressing Frank hard against the couch, but Frank has found little space to move and he can't stop squirming. The hand on Frank's cock doesn't stop until Frank's all spent and completely boneless on the couch. The guy breathes heavily against his skin and Frank really wants to reciprocate.

Frank wakes up before the guy can even lift his face off of Frank's neck, though.

He wakes up and he's hard as a rock in his pajama pants. "Fuck," he says, rolling in his bed so he's lying on his side. The movement doesn't make anything better, because the fabric of his pajamas, no matter how thin, slides against the head of his cock and it hurts. He can't go back to sleep with that rock between his legs.

It's Monday morning and he's hard as hell from another wet dream. What a crappy way to start this week.

He turns to lie on his back again and slips his hand beneath the bed covers, beneath the thin pants, wrapping it around his shaft. He wants to get rid of it quickly so that he can go back to sleep. He feels pretty drowsy, even after this hot dream, so he closes his eyes and gets in on the action.

Frank's hand is soft compared to the Dream Guy's one. It's soft and small, and he can't get half the experience he was having while asleep. He could feel it so perfectly. Frank has no idea how, though, since he's never had a hand like that wrapped so firmly around his cock.

"Who are you, fucking bastard?" Frank asks to himself, within a moan. This faceless dream isn't the first one Frank's had. It started a couple of weeks before he decided he wanted to come out to his family, meaning about a year ago. Night after night, the dreams get stronger in intensity and Frank can't avoid them. "Why do you make me feel like this?"

Frank isn't even focused on anything but this Dream Guy. He's been there a lot, giving Frank only the best sexual sensations and making Frank an expert at letting himself be led through sex. He hopes he can find someone in real life with this Dream Guy's skills.

For now, Frank tightens his hand around his cock and moves it faster, jerking off to the images of the previous dream that still cling to his mind. He probably won't be able to get rid of them before lunch time; he's so used to their presence that he already knows what to expect of his own brain. Since they're so damn persistent, Frank will enjoy them and jack his cock as fast as he can without being too noisy.

His mother has caught him jerking off at least four times and it wasn't good after any of them, so he's trying to keep it down. Still, his moans come out against his will and he gasps, fisting at his middle with more ease now. He's almost there and wants to control his body before the moans get the best of him.

In the end, he manages to finish in silence. He still has to throw his free hand over his mouth, to cover the unavoidable gasp that comes with the first spurt. His stomach boils and his hips buck up, sending strong shivers up his spine that render him helpless on the bed. His hand comes off all dirty and sticky, and Frank feels the satisfying afterglow of climax and is too lazy to wash up, so he just wipes his hand off on a corner of the sheets.

His alarm clock saves him, though. It rings loudly and he is surprised that it's time to begin another day. He had thought it'd be earlier in the dawn, but he's actually glad it isn't. Now he has an opportunity to wash up in his usual morning shower. He gets up and gets a towel from the right drawer in his closet, throwing it over his shoulder so he can open the door with his clean hand. He keeps the other one safely hidden under the towel and leaves his bedroom.

**

Frank goes downstairs for breakfast already wearing his school uniform, consisting of dark slacks, white button up shirt, navy blue necktie and also navy blue blazer.

At the kitchen table, he finds his parents and his grandfather. He's been living with them ever since Frank's grandmother passed away a couple of years ago. Everybody took her death very badly, as she had been the matriarch of this family ever since she'd married and had four sons and two daughters, including Frank's mother, Lyla.

For the past week, however, she has been in Lyla's morning prayers in a different way.

Frank came out to his family last Tuesday, after a prolonged mental battle with himself for over a year. He had gotten help in finding out the best way to tell his mother that he's gay, but it all came to naught. He still received the amount of hatred he had been expecting. His family is very devout, especially on his mother's side, so neither she nor her father took the news really well. In fact, Frank's grandfather said he'd throw Frank out if it was his house, and added that he had already banished him from the family for daring to break God's laws. Frank hadn't taken that lightly and started a fight with him, using the arguments he had worked on based on their priest, Father Way's advice.

His mother didn't react any better, though, just as Frank was expecting. She said she wouldn't throw him out because he's still a minor and still in high school. She said, "Don't think you'll be this lucky when you turn twenty one, though."

She turned her back on him immediately. Frank stood there, in the middle of the living room, feeling abandoned. He had been prepared for the hostility from his family, but not for a threat of that kind. Being told that he would have to leave his house and forget his family just because he's gay, is something that he really hadn't thought would be possible. But apparently his mother still had the ability to exceed his expectations.

His father stayed by his side, though. He had been the one saying that it didn't matter who Frank liked or not. He said, "You're my son and I don't care about your sexual orientation. You should do what you want. No one has the right to judge you."

Frank's father's family history has been mainly Catholic as well, but never as strictly as the family on his mother's side. While Frank Iero Sr. goes to Church but respects any views against Catholicism, Lyla Iero is very conservative and traditionalist, following her own family history.

"I'll try to talk to your mother," Frank's father concluded, with a pat on the teenager's shoulder. Frank thanked him and let his father hug him, in a comforting gesture. He seriously hoped his father would be able to talk his mother out of her current stance, because being told that he was an embarrassment for his family just for liking dick hurt him really bad.

In the end, almost a week later, nothing has changed. Frank looks at his father first every morning, in the hope of hearing good news, but so far his father has only shaken his head or looked elsewhere, indicating pretty clearly that he still hadn't been able to change Frank's mother's mind.

So they've been under this tension every time they're together. They have always eaten breakfast with the radio on, listening to the morning news and commenting on the new day's facts. Ever since last Tuesday, though, they've been listening to the local Catholic radio station. Frank reacted the first time with a groan and a roll of his eyes, but after his mother reprehended him that same morning he never reacted to it again. It's their new routine, now that Frank is assumedly gay and, according to his grandfather, needs to be converted back into purity.

Frank has learned to control his reactions to any comments his grandfather or his mother might make. For his own sake.

**

Frank rides the bus to school every day. He has to run to the closest stop of the school bus in the neighborhood, but it's only a ten minutes walk. There are other students at the meet-up point, of course, but none of them is friends with Frank. His friends don't live nearby. They live in the city, while Frank's family has always lived in the suburbs.

He meets his friends by the double doors to the school's church. They're always there, waiting for Frank, every morning. They meet up there because it's mandatory. Every student must come to church for the first ten minutes and for the last fifteen minutes of every school day. That's the time for the school's collective prayers.

Today Frank tries to focus on the words that are being said. He's saying them out loud himself and, at the same time, he's trying to understand them. Ever since the first fight with his family, he doesn't give these words enough credit. This belief has put Frank's family against him.

Well, not only his family, but most of the school population. Some people think it's funny to pick on him after years of no bullying, but Frank has to be honest with himself. He prefers to deal with that kind of harassment than being told to the headmaster and face who knows what kind of punishment. He might even get expelled for being gay, for all he knows, and that would only bring more trouble at home. Frank doesn't need more drama, seriously.

Why have the drama if he can have a laugh with his friends about liking cock? It's not that he enjoys being called perverted names in the halls, but he can always joke about the creativity of those names with Lukas and Jonas, his best friends at school. He's been friends with them for years now and they've had a great time together.

In school, they're pretty low key, going to class and staying in the back as much as they can, smoking only in their perfectly hidden alleys, and mostly just discussing geek material such as old horror movies and DC characters and role-play games. They're the outcasts who mind their own business and only react when properly provoked. There was, for example, the incident last week. Somehow the news was out that Frank had come out to his parents and on Thursday, he came to school and the harassing comments and insults started. They laughed it all off in the end, but Frank confessed that he had no idea how the information had spread so quickly and that he should just get over it. But then Lukas had said, "Or get avenged."

And that was how, on Friday, Jonas brought a can of red paint to school and how, during the whole day, the three friends occupied all their free time painting on a school wall. They wrote _Gay is okay_. Today, however, it's already been partially removed.

Outside the school, the three friends are in the same band. They were invited by Lukas's cousin, Gordon and his friend Jeremy. They're still a garage band, of course, but they have a lot of fun covering rock songs of all eras, by international bands or local famous acts. They have written their own pieces too, though, but not as many. The band meets and practices at Frank's garage, a couple of hours every day.

After their last class, all of them head home to their own place. Frank laughs at Lukas and Jonas as they leave the school building towards the bus stop, while Frank walks the usual way to the parking space where his grandfather is waiting for him. He always picks Frank up at school; he always has, although he used to do it with Frank's grandmother too, back in the days. Now that she's gone, it's another way of remembering her.

Since last week, though, Frank hops in to the passenger seat and sits down in silence, only greeting his grandfather out of politeness. He knows he won't get any friendly response and, in fact, he doesn't. The man barely growls a greeting back at him. The rest of the drive is equally soundless. Frank lost his great relationship with his grandfather after he came out, which is really sad, because they used to a very close family. He wishes things hadn't gone so far, wishes his family respected him for who he is and loved him more than a religion and what a catechism might say. Frank always enjoyed growing up in a Catholic household, with their beliefs and traditions, their faith in a greater good, but he had never seen it with so much restriction. His mother and grandfather are too controlling and Frank hates that, hates the restraints of their closed minds.

Frank sighs. He looks over at his grandfather and sees him looking straight ahead, completely ignoring Frank. He remembers having heard from his grandfather that Frank disgusts him, and it still hurts. Frank has looked down at himself several times and hasn't seen anything wrong, so he can't help but wonder why his family insists in thinking otherwise.

Frank sighs again, decidedly ignoring his grandfather and the rest of his thoughts, since it won't do any difference. He just keeps staring at the streets passing by outside the window. He's silently humming the tune to one of his bands' songs.

Frank is startled out of his thoughts when he feels the car stopping. He realizes he hasn't even been focusing on the sight outside the window when he sees that his grandfather has parked the car in the parking lot by the grand church in town.

Usually, they don't come here on week days. They've always only come for mass on Sunday mornings. It was Frank and his parents, meeting his grandparents before the service started, all together to share a moment with God, with each other and the rest of the community, all united in the same faith. Now, though, Frank's forced to come every day since Tuesday, after school on week days, in the mornings during the weekend.

His mother and grandfather make him come to _'repent'_ and _'be embarrassed before God'_ and _'get better'_ , _'cleanse his soul'_ through prayers and obedience to God's will. Frank obeys, but he doesn't feel embarrassed. If so, what he feels is love, not wrath, and understanding unlike at home. God listens to him and lets Frank be, unlike his grandfather and his mother. What those two don't know is that Frank has an ally at church, otherwise they would never let him come here every day.

It's someone Frank certainly doesn't mind seeing and talking to every single day, if he has a chance to. It's Father Way, the youngest priest in the community. He's come to town around eight years ago, straight after being ordained. As far as Frank knows, Father Way grew up in town himself, even if his family doesn't live here anymore, but he seems to love this town very much and it's kind of a mutual feeling. He won the hearts of everyone in town quickly with challenging sermons, friendly words to everyone, children or elderly, and especially with his young, unconstrained yet wise way of saying mass.

Father Way has also gained a few enemies along the way, due to his progressive vision of the Church, its beliefs and to his own interpretation of God's words. Frank knows he didn't seen much in this priest until four years ago, when Frank entered the confession booth ready to confront the truth about his sexuality. He needed to talk about it with someone, and it was the only place where he knew the person he spoke to would keep it a secret. It turned out that, that day, it was Father Way's turn to receive confession and Frank couldn't be happier about it.

It was Frank's monthly confession, mandatory in his family; basically it's another of his grandmother's old traditions, but Frank never saw anything wrong in it. That day, four years ago, when he told Father Way that he might like boys more than girls, the priest was really supportive of him and non-judgmental. He even spoke to Frank in the privacy of the church's office, where no one goes when the door is closed, but he didn't set out to change Frank's mind, even though Frank thought he might. Instead, Father Way only asked him to talk with no restraints and listened to Frank's teenage doubts and questions about God and homosexuality. He even shared with Frank his opinion on it, and read with Frank a few passages from the books of Ruth and Samuel.

Father Way was more than a priest that day. It was the day that Frank felt for the first time that he had gained an understanding ally and Father Way won his trust even more as time went by. It still feels good to know that Frank can come here and talk to him if he's having trouble with his sexuality and now with his family's reaction.

Today, Frank sits down alone in one of the first pews of the church. His grandfather comes in, but stays in the back. It's the family usual spot every Sunday morning for mass, but Frank stays away from him since they started coming every day. And his grandfather doesn't complain. Frank sits down and looks at the altar, thinking about school and his final essay, wondering if his homeroom teachers will accept Frank's theme choice and summary and goals for this essay that he must hand in around the end of the school year.

This essay is due at the end of every school year, gradually growing in length with every year that goes by. There's a list of selected topics for younger students but, in high school junior and senior years, they're granted the opportunity of choosing their own topic. Frank is going with something controversial, taking advantage of the tender situation he's going through at the moment. He's going to talk about homosexuality and how it's mentioned in the Bible, ready to do religious research and find opposite interpretations of several excerpts from the Bible. It's most likely going to cause a commotion, which kind of frightens Frank because it can get him expelled or severely prejudiced in his grades, but he thinks it will at least give him the pleasure of working on a subject that is so contentious and he feels so strongly about.

Frank is aiming really high, he's perfectly aware of that, but he is going to show his proposal to Sister Janette first, because she's one of his homeroom teachers, and he knows she is open-minded enough to accept this challenge. Frank looks behind himself and wonders what atrocities his family will say to him when they find out about this, because he will have to tell them; he just won't do it until he's done all the research and written all the pages and handed in the whole thing for evaluation.

After a moment of silence, Frank kneels down and honestly asks God if He hates Frank for being like this and for daring to do things like this essay.

He hears a response, but he's pretty sure it doesn't come directly from God. There's just a voice he knows, saying, "Of course He doesn't hate you, Frank."

Frank turns his head to the side and looks up, and finds Father Way standing there in the side corridor. Then, he adds, "He made you like this for a reason."

Frank looks back at the altar, in a movement of reverence towards the purpose of his previous prayers and questions, and then crosses himself in order to sit back down on the pew. He motions beside him, silently asking Father Way to sit down too. He does, adding, "Bad day, huh?"

"It's not that. I've got this essay to write 'til the end of the school year and I want to do something audacious, but I'm not sure I'm ready for the response I might get," Frank replies honestly. He knows he can count on Father Way to open up about whatever bothers him. And Frank always does. "I know you'll tell me to go for it and stay true to myself, but I also know my family's opinions on the matter, and I just—"

"Are you having doubts again?" Father Way asks, sounding very concerned. Frank shakes his head; it's his answer to the question, as he's perfectly aware that it has happened before. Well, it wouldn't be the first time Frank comes here and talks to Father Way about all the doubts he's had about being gay, whenever Frank needs to hear that it's not wrong, that it's mainly stereotypes that Frank can work against. "Tell me about this essay."

And Frank does, trying to explain his idea as uncomplicated as he can. He lets Father Way in on every single approach he wants to try, the traditional view of homosexuality as a sin and the more recent opinion that it's completely normal and part of the human evolution. Father Way hums and nods as he talks, looking quite thoughtful.

Then, Frank admits, "You know, maybe you can help me. You have a lot of opinions on everything, and you've been really supportive in this whole sexuality issue. Do you think I can use you as part of my research?"

Father Way seems very surprised, after Frank finishes with an expectant smile. He's practically at a begging point, asking the priest for help because he isn't sure if he'll endure the task he wants to start working on by himself. He tells this to Father Way, who keeps looking at Frank with a surprised, now also thoughtful look.

"I do have an opinion on it," Father Way ends up saying, clasping his hands on his lap. Frank already knows how to interpret this gesture. It's Father Way's very subtle way of showing interest, so Frank grins instantly.

He knows he has won the priest's attention when he asked for help to write about the Bible and homosexuality. Frank has in fact heard him mention how it's time for the Church to change its views on a lot of issues, this being only one of them. Frank can't feel happier about this ally he found at church, even if they're not and will never be exactly friends. This is his priest, but they can obviously develop a friendly connection and relationship.

"Will you be part of my research, then?" Frank asks, knowing that it is unnecessary. He can read it on Father Way's expression and gestures. He's excited, just like Frank.

"I suppose, Frank. This might only be an essay for school, but it's such a—" Father Way interrupts himself, turning on his seat so that he's facing Frank. Frank looks up at him and focuses on the white collar around his neck, the one piece of his attire that stops them from being _friends_.

The priest takes a deep breath in as though reining in his enthusiasm, and then continues speaking. "The way the Bible portrays homosexuality can be very controversial. You'll find a lot of different opinions on it, strongly opposing viewpoints and very heated debates and conferences. I've been to some myself, and I've been a priest for less than a decade. I love this subject, because I'm all for vindicating freedom and people's rights, even though I'm not a revolutionary. I just think people need to be treated the same, as long as they keep devoted to God. I believe in many ways of speaking to Him, and it doesn't matter who people end up lying in bed with. It shouldn't matter. It was God who created us; He allowed homosexuality in His own way. "

Pausing for a sigh, he adds, "Still, you'll need to be careful about what you write and about the way you approach the topic. Don't forget you're doing it for a Catholic school with very traditional views, a very strict school actually. It seems really brave to me, Frank, but does any of your teachers support you?"

"No one knows yet," Frank says honestly. He never dares to speak differently to Father Way. He's been so helpful and so encouraging that Frank feels like he owes the priest most of his daring actions, for the past year or more. He complements his answer, saying, "Tomorrow, I'll have to present the topic, a summary and a small part of my bibliography to my homeroom teachers."

"Well, if you've got someone on your side, then it'll be easier to work on this essay. I don't mind helping you if you need books and different approaches on the subject, but you'll probably need backup inside the school. Maybe that's why you're so insecure about it, since you don't know if you can count on your teachers. Everything is harder when you feel alone in your train of thought." Father Way is smiling now, looking right into Frank's eyes. He looks sincerely happy that he can help.

"I _know_ that," Frank replies, giggling lightly. He's glad himself that he can count on the person that has helped and guided him throughout his teenage years. "I'm glad you're willing to help me with research. It feels good to have allies in this. My dad's very supportive, and my friends don't really care, but it's hard to be myself around everyone else. It's like they look down on me with disgust, or something."

"I'm sure it's only because it's something recent," Father Way says, putting his hand over Frank's. The teenager moves his gaze towards the hand resting lightly on his; he has his hands on the back of the pew in front of them, and the priest's touch feels very encouraging. "It'll get better, you'll see."

"I hope so." Frank retreats his hands from under the other's, clasping them on his lap too. It's not a sign of anything, not in this case. He just lifts his eyes towards Father Way's face again, breathing easily. He says, "I don't think I ever thanked you for being so supportive."

"You don't have to."

"No, I do. You have always supported me and helped me understand myself a little better over the years, and these last weeks have been the most important ones to me. You indirectly helped me in coming out, your words gave me courage enough to come clean and that feels really good. I thought I'd never be able to tell my parents, but I did. I was expecting this kind of reaction, but coming here has helped me cope with it most of the time. And talking to you helps even more."

Frank smiles honestly, never taking his eyes away from Father Way's face now. He needs to let this all out. "I owe you most of my sanity and serenity right now. Well, I owe it to this church and to you."

"No, don't give me credit for that," Father Way insists, wide-eyed.

Frank smiles widely, understanding, but thanks him again. Then, out of nowhere, the priest asks him, "How's the atmosphere like at home?"

"The same," Frank admits, shrugging. The lack of conversation in the house is enough to see that his family is still adamant on their stand. "My grandpa refuses to talk to me and my mom has been acting really weird, even for her. Now every morning, instead of listening to the news on the radio, she puts on the station with the morning prayers."

"You want me to talk to them?" Father Way offers, once more touching Frank's hands.

Frank shrugs, persistent on removing his hands from under the Father's. "I dunno how that would help, seriously. You know my grandpa doesn't really like you. He says you're not a real priest, just because you think differently."

"Some people are deep believers, Frank, and refuse to accept the changes that come with time. It might also be because I'm such a young priest and they refuse to give in to what I believe in, because they've believed in something for a longer time and it has never failed them. And there's nothing I can do about it. Well, I can keep doing what I do best and lead people in their faith. Those who want will follow God through me, and those who don't — well, God will look after them, too. I know they mean well."

"I'm fine with that, honestly. People seem to believe different things and, like you told me more than once, there are several ways of speaking to God. I just don't like some of my grandpa's reactions." Frank pauses in his response, trying to think of some of the things his grandfather has told him about Father Way and his modern view of the church. "Like, why does he have to say so many horrible things about you when he's barely talked to you? He calls you a priest from Hell and actually told me you were the one making me 'like this'."

"I believe in free speech," says the priest, although his facial expression changes. He looks really serious and severe right now, most likely not liking to hear what Frank just told him. Still he keeps his pose and adds, "Let him be. God will be the one judging him and everyone else when the time comes."

Frank nods and remains in silence after that. He knows Father Way will never change his opinion on that, no matter how much hatred Frank's grandfather spreads about him. It's his very own accepting way of seeing the world and its population, always acting so non-judgmental, so Frank doesn't insist. He looks behind himself and sees his grandfather still sitting there, looking forward but not at Frank. He's looking at the altar, like he always does. Frank turns back around and looks up too, finding the altar and the cross and the golden structure of the church.

When Frank looks back down, he catches a glimpse of his watch. They've got more or less fifteen minutes until they have to go home so Frank can practice with his band. At least, his family still grants him that in the garage.

Father Way inhales soundly and Frank turns back to look at him. The priest asks, "What about your dreams?"

Frank blinks at that question. He has in fact told the priest about his wet dreams, in a moment of despair when they started getting really frequent. The priest had calmly told Frank that it's normal to have them, when his body is growing up and adjusting to the hormones, so Frank had started giving them less importance. So far it has worked, even though the dreams haven't stopped at all. In fact, they've become pretty intense since Tuesday.

So he nods and admits so. "I had one just last night. They've been occurring practically daily since I came out, actually."

"Still the same content?" Frank nods at that question and looks down at his hands, now putting them flat against the bench by his thighs, still being shy about it, even before Father Way. Frank knows the priest won't judge him, but it's still embarrassing to admit that he's been dreaming about sex. A hand covers his again. "Don't be embarrassed, Frank. There must be a reason why God gives you these dreams."

"If there is, I don't see the point of it," Frank sighs, rolling his eyes at himself. "I mean, they're disturbing me. These dreams started a year ago and after a really bad one, after my mom caught me jerking off that morning, I came out to my family. I thought it would stop the dreams, but it didn't. This week they got worse and longer, and I've had one practically every night. Emotion-wise, it's almost tearing me apart."

"And the worst part is that there's still no face," he continues, never looking up. Not even when Father Way's hand moves up to his shoulder comfortingly. Frank lets it be and keeps talking. "It can be pretty much anyone, or just my body making a statement, but it's annoying. I wish they would just stop once and for all."

"They may be related to physical attraction toward someone. You're young. You've been discovering yourself, and physical attraction is normal at this age, as long as you channel that energy in the right direction."

"I'm not attracted to anyone, though, so maybe that's why there's no face. I'm not dreaming of anyone in particular, only of a physical interaction between me and some other guy," Frank retaliates.

"Everybody feels that kind of attraction toward someone," Father Way says, nodding. Frank is now looking directly into his eyes and they seem to shine with this truth that kind of perturbs Frank a little. He has to look elsewhere when the priest keeps talking. "All human beings are physical creatures, after all."

Frank looks up immediately again, triggered by that last affirmation. "Well, you don't seem to—"

"I said _everybody,_ Frank."

Wide-eyed, Frank can't really reply to that. He knows Father Way is right, he's a person just like Frank, but the idea of him actually needing sexual contact is a little… disturbing. So Frank doesn't say anything, he doesn't even think about it.

That's when he hears, "It's time to go, Frank."

He turns his head to the main church corridor and sees his grandfather turning back around and walking towards the back, towards the exit. He doesn't even have time to reply, but it doesn't matter. He has to leave and that's that.

"I have to—" Frank doesn't even finish that sentence because Father Way heard what his grandfather just said. He smiles instead, trying to get comfortable around the last image in his mind. "Well, it was good talking to you today. Thanks."

"It's my pleasure, Frank," says Father Way, smiling back. His eyes have lost some of the previous shine, or maybe it was just Frank imagining it before. What he isn't imagining is how much Father Way is touching him today, as the priest slides a hand over his shoulder again. He smiles and adds, "Go home in peace, Frank and please, be patient. With your family and, most importantly, with yourself."

Frank smiles in return, but feels like his mouth is twitching. He can't really say he doesn't know why, because the last part of this conversation has in fact left him feeling a little thrown off. It's not that there's anything wrong with Father Way saying that everybody needs physical satisfaction, but the expression on his face had been so hard to read that Frank can't be sure if he wants to know what he exactly means or not.

There's an involuntary shiver running down his back when Father Way takes his hand back, because he slides it off of Frank's shoulder in a slow movement. And he never takes his eyes away from Frank's. Frank shakes it off, though. He's just seeing things, he's so sure of it; he's seeing things because they've been talking about his wet dreams and this is how they make him feel. So he gets up and turns to the side corridor.

He feels eyes on the back of his neck as he's walking closer to the exit, but he doesn't turn around. Frank knows who's watching him, he just doesn't know why. Or he might as well just be imagining things again. There's no way he can be sure that someone is staring at him when he's got his back turned on them. When he finally leaves the church, he's flabbergasted and not sure how comfortable he feels with spending a night with these thoughts on his mind.

**

It's five fifteen when Frank's bandmates knock on the front door. Frank takes them to the garage through the gate outside and they talk about what they want to play today. Frank tells them about the new riffs he has been thinking about and they chat excitedly about those new ideas.

The garage gate finally opens and they stroll to the corner where they've got their gear. Frank rolls his shoulders so that he feels relaxed enough to play some music, although he knows he won't be relaxed enough until he holds his guitar close.

Every day, they play until seven PM. They practice in Frank's garage on week days, Mondays through Thursdays, while on Friday and Saturday evenings, they go to a small studio owned by a cousin of someone Jeremy knows.

Jeremy is the oldest guy in the band, their lead guitarist and kind of leader, and Frank looks up to him a lot. He's a free spirit, working at his parents' supermarket since he was fifteen, but as far as Frank knows, he's also working a few hours at a record label. Being involved in music is one of Frank's dreams.

His father and grandfather always played the drums, only not professionally, and Frank's passion for music comes about because of them. He's been to their gigs since he was very young, and has tried to learn a lot of instruments through his life. He tried learning the drums, the saxophone, the trumpet, the violin, the piano and the bass, but none gives Frank as many feelings as when he touches a guitar. He loves feeling the strings under his fingers, and the bruises on his palms and fingertips if he plays too rough or for too long; loves the touch of the guitar's body and neck under his hands whether he's playing or not. His guitar is so white that it almost glows when the sunlight or the moonlight hits it. It's a gorgeous guitar he got from his grandfather when he turned eleven; a curved body and a long neck making Frank proud every time he can show it off to friends or friends' acquaintances.

Frank practically melts under the weight of his guitar and the sounds he creates with it, focused on Lukas's keyboards, and Jonas's drumming, and Gordon's bass groove and strident voice. This is Frank's favorite thing in the world. He gets totally lost when he's playing, and only notices the time when the whole garage falls into a sudden silence. Frank sighs. It's time already.

At seven PM sharp, his mother cuts the power to the garage so that they know that practice is over for the day. Frank doesn't really complain because they live in a familiar neighborhood and making too much noise after a certain hour can piss off a lot of people, and he doesn't want any trouble. He wants to practice every day, even if only for a couple of hours. It's better than not playing at all.

The group of five friends say goodbye to each other. They'll see each other tomorrow. For now, Frank sees them off, before closing the garage gate and going into the house. It's time for dinner, but it ends up being an awkward meal all over again, with barely any sound being made except for the clink of cutlery and glasses. And the radio, which is always on when they share a meal at the kitchen table; thankfully it's on the news station and Frank doesn't hear any homophobic comments tonight.

He spends the rest of the night in his bedroom, telling his family that he's got homework to finish. With Father Way's words on his mind, he keeps the ceiling lamp on and turns on his laptop, so he can work on that summary. He knows he has to add a brief description of what he intends to write on the twenty pages he is due, but ends up with a full page of goals and questions he plans on developing in the essay. After that's done, he goes online and looks for a few book titles he can include as his research references, a few links as well, and fills half a page with it as neatly as he can.

In the end, Frank's satisfied. He saves the document on his pen drive and takes it downstairs with him. He finds his parents sitting on the couch. His grandfather is most likely in bed already. He smiles at them, knowing fully well that he has to ask for their permission to use the only printer in the house, and asks, "Dad, I need to use the printer in the office for some homework I'm due tomorrow. You mind if I—"

"Of course," his father says, gesturing mindlessly with one hand.

His mother, however, doesn't let him go so easily. She tells his father to go with him, like she suspects that Frank might use the printer for other purposes rather than strictly homework. It's not like Frank would print anything else while they're at home, especially when _she_ is. He feels tempted to roll his eyes at the thought of it, but he's still facing them and doesn't want to risk being seen by her. It would probably turn into a disaster and he wouldn't get his work printed in any way.

His father doesn't mind coming to the office and, in fact, Frank can't be more relieved that it's him and not his mother. She would definitely read the document in its whole and put a lot of restrictions on his plans to write this, including forcing Frank to work on something entirely different, something of her own choice. His father does take a look at what Frank is printing and although his eyes bug out alarmingly, he doesn't say anything in the end. And Frank knows this secret is safe with him, especially when they leave the office and Frank Sr. pats his head in a soft gesture.

"Good luck with that essay, son," he says, smiling softly. Frank knows what he means and thanks him sincerely. They wish each other a good night and Frank goes by the living room to wish his mother the same.

Back upstairs, Frank closes his bedroom door behind himself with a huge grin on his lips. His father is absolutely the best.

**

On the bed, this time, Frank is lying under Dream Guy. They're fully clothed, Frank in his school uniform and the guy in his usual black clothes, but they have their pants half down their thighs. They're rubbing their crotches together and there are all these sexual sensations crawling under Frank's skin and burning him in the most satisfying pleasure he has ever felt.

His virgin body can't take this any longer, though and soon, Frank is burying his face on Dream Guy's neck and coming. He squirms under this faceless guy, coming hot and hard, moaning expletives absentmindedly and just letting go of everything else.

Then all Frank can feel is dead weight over him. Dream Guy kisses Frank hotly and the teenager closes his eyes, as his chest falls and rises hastily. He feels good. He's comfortable and calm, like he just got rid of every single bitter feeling and thought and doubt. It's only him and his Dream Guy, after their perfect imaginary sex.

Frank hears his name in Dream Guy's undefined voice and opens his eyes. But there's no one. The weight on his body is gone, except for the bed covers. Frank throws a hand down his chest, over his pajama pants and feels it perfectly; he's hard. He sighs and wishes it away, too disappointed that it's only another faceless dream.

He gets up and showers, barely noticing that the house is still buried in the dark of dawn. He gets back to his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and looks at his alarm clock; it reads five AM. He's got over an hour until he has to get up for school, so he just lies in bed, wishing he didn't have to dream about sex. These dream only confuse him more, because who can Dream Guy be? And how can he make Frank feel so good?

Sighing, Frank looks down at his crotch and feels how much his erection hurts. He lies there and wishes it away, refusing to touch it.

He looks at the ceiling instead.

**

The next morning, Frank takes a deep breath before he approaches his homeroom teachers, Sister Janette and Mrs. Webster. Frank knows Sister Janette is pretty open-minded, despite being a middle-aged nun, and he's heard from her about _'the wonderful new vision of herself she had from God through Father Way'_. Frank can't be sure what it means, but she had spoken in that tone that suggested she had witnessed a miracle. Frank, however, prefers not to think about that; he just hopes she will support him when he hands in his summary.

As for Mrs. Webster, Frank has no idea what to expect from her. She was one of the new teachers hired for this year, once the new headmaster took office. One of the first ideas was to replace the oldest Sisters of St. Joseph by new teachers.

The new headmaster decided to hire teachers outside the religious order of Sisters that had been tutors in this school since they joined the congregation. Most of the Sisters were really sweet through Frank's middle school years, but they were old and antiquate and didn't teach according to the times they're living. So thankfully the new headmaster hired other teachers, mainly old students from this same school. Frank hopes that Mrs. Webster is in the roll of teachers that are open-minded.

He hands in the two copies of his summary to both teachers, biting his bottom lip. He's nervous about their reaction, because they can say anything. He watches them closely while they read. Sister Janette is smiling while Mrs. Webster remains unexpressive. The Sister is the first to turn to Frank, and says, "This is a very brave suggestion, Frank, but I didn't expect anything less from you. If you get any trouble about this essay, though, I can sign an official form stating why I accepted your theme. I'm sure Mrs. Webster will sign it too, and also Mr. Byrne. He'll be very excited about reading this as soon as I tell him about your essay, I'm sure. Everybody knows about his free spirit. Well anyway, you've got my consent."

He smiles at her and then looks over at Mrs. Webster, who is starting to speak. "Good luck with this, Frank," she says, smiling. "I hope you're willing to work hard on this."

Grinning, Frank jumps up and down on the balls of his feet, just like a little child. "Thank you! I'm very excited about this essay." He goes back to his seat, a lot more hopeful about this final essay. He's got the support of at least two teachers, and Sister Janette did say Mr. Byrne would like to hear about his suggestion, so this is a good sign.

He has never been so glad about having his final essay topic accepted.

**

That same afternoon, Frank reveals a confident smile as soon as he steps inside the church. He wants to tell Father Way about how his homeroom teachers supported his idea and how, after the last class, Mr. Byrne came to see him and told Frank that he was on his side too. How they all encouraged him to write this essay with an open mind and how he's more than ready to start doing research for it. He only has a month to finish it, so he should start right away. Frank feels the absolute need to share the news with Father Way because he did tell Frank that he would feel better.

Frank doesn't see him, though. He leaves his grandfather sitting in the back and looks around the church, empty apart from a few elderly women on their knees with their rosaries. By the altar, the man who Frank knows to be the sacristan is talking to Father Clarence. He's the oldest priest in town, whom Father Way came to assist. He actually looks like a priest, with grey hair and his compact body and, while he has always been kind, Father Clarence is extremely old-fashioned. So of course he doesn't like that Frank came out as gay, but maintains his composure every time Frank talks to him. Frank can see past his kindness, though; he can see how the priest looks uncomfortable and takes a step back like Frank is too close.

Ignoring that unsubtle act of unease, Frank asks for Father Way. Father Clarence clears his throat before he replies, "I think he's in the back room. He was reading there when I last saw him."

"Thank you, Father," Frank says cordially, leaning forward in a respectful bow. The priest inclines his head in acknowledgment. That's when Frank starts moving towards the vestry, the shortest way to the back room.

There's an old chalkboard on the wall and small chairs for Sunday school every week before mass, and two long benches against one wall. Father Way is sitting on one, by the window, with a hardback book in his hands. Frank looks closer and tries to read the title on the cover, but it's in a foreign language that looks like Latin. He knows some as he took it in middle school, but it's been too long and he never had a chance to practice the language.

Father Way seems very absorbed in his reading. His eyes move very swiftly through the pages as he leafs through the book fast, like he can't stop reading. It's actually quite fun to watch, but Frank wants to talk to him instead, so he clears his throat. Father Way lifts his head to look and, once he's realized who's in there with him, he closes the book and puts it down on the bench beside his leg. "Oh, hello Frank."

They both smile, but Frank thinks that Father Way doesn't look very comfortable. He ignores it and greets him back. "Hello. I wanted to talk to you. Is this a bad time?"

"No, of course not," the priest says, patting the bench on his book-free side. Frank sits down and starts speaking immediately. He tells Father Way everything he can about the essay and his teachers' reaction. "You see, I told you you'd feel better if you had backup. I'm glad you're committed to your topic, despite the consequences it might have."

"I'm aware of that, and I do think I'll write this as controversially as I can. I want to see if I can cause any impact in people's minds," Frank replies, feeling pretty confident about this, including his final goal.

"You'll need to be careful, though," Father Way tells him. It seems like a serious piece of advice, so Frank looks straight into his eyes and waits for the rest of it. "I mean, you don't want it to get out of hand, right?"

"Nah. It's only twenty pages, how bad can it be? I'll handle it." Frank grins along his answer, because he just wants to start doing research on this. He doesn't want to be careful. He wants to do something. "So! I was thinking, you said you could help with research?"

"Ah yes," says Father Way, shifting on his seat. The look of discomfort when he first saw Frank seems to have vanished now. "I was interested in the matter a couple of years ago, and I was asked to speak at a conference about the liberalization of the Church. It was when the laws for gay rights started being discussed in the senate and on the news again. I told you about it; you must remember. Well, at the time I found quite a few interesting titles and met very interesting authors that have written about this whole controversy between the conservative and the progressive sides of Catholicism. We've got some books in the office."

"Come with me," he finally offers, getting up and waiting for Frank to do the same. When they both walk in to the office, it's empty of course as the door was wide open. Frank walks in first and hears Father Way closing the door, so no one should interrupt them while they're in the room.

"This saves me a lot of trouble, actually," Frank starts confessing, with a small giggle. "I don't have to roam on every library in town looking for books on people's opinions on homosexuality."

Father Way smiles and puts his book down on the desk, turning to the bookcase behind it. He pauses first. Frank sees his head moving in every direction as he certainly browses the book titles they've got in there, but soon he stops and turns back to Frank. "Well, I kind of forgot something important."

"What is it?"

"We only have books on the conservative view in here, as you can imagine." He takes a breath before continuing. "Father Clarence wasn't very supportive of owning other kinds of books. He's very opinionated against homosexuality, as he's conservative himself, and so is half of our community."

"But people seem to like you and you're not conservative at all," Frank argues, matter-of-factly. Father Way doesn't respond in any way, so Frank is tempted to continue. He starts by saying, "I think—" but decides to interrupt himself. No one asked for his opinion.

"What is it?" the priest asks him, though. Frank shrugs it off, but Father Way insists. "No, tell me."

"I think you won people's hearts and trust because you have such a cordial presence during Mass and you speak with an easy vocabulary and a very… common style. Most of the time, I didn't understand Father Clarence's sermons, because his words were extremely erudite and complex to interpret during an oral exposition." Frank clarifies this as simply as he can, trying not to sound too criticizing. He's sure he's just talking for pretty much everybody else in town.

Frank remembers coming to church when he was younger and finding almost no one sitting there, listening to Father Clarence's Mass, but the number of people at church on Sunday mornings raised when Father Way came to town and started reading and saying the homilies. That had to mean something. He shares this with Father Way who replies, "I see what you mean. You can't forget that Father Clarence speaks for his generation, and I try to reach everyone."

"Well then, your job here is done," Frank compliments him, perfectly aware of what he's saying. And, in fact, they smile at each other.

"Thank you. I really like that you think so. Reaching the young minds is a very difficult task," Father Way tells him, sounding very honest. Then he turns back to the bookcase. "Now, the books!"

He ends up suggesting a lot of titles and shows them to Frank, describing some of their content and commenting on how he thinks the book is very general or adds some new information. Frank listens to him closely, but he accompanies Father Way's exposition with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, because it seems like the priest has memorized all these books he's speaking of. He stops, though, blinking his eyelashes at Frank.

"What's wrong?" he asks, like he's not used to people staring at him in shock as he describes and comments on several books and tells Frank which can be the most useful for his research.

"Hm? No, nothing's wrong. It's just—" Frank gulps before answering. "You seem to know these books by heart. It's impressive."

Father Way laughs lightly, a wide smile illuminating his face. "I kind of do."

Frank blinks at him at first, but then he decides to treat Father Way with a challenge. He grins and says, "Let's test that."

The priest doesn't seem to understand what Frank means to do, because he's standing there with an open book forgotten in his hands. He's just staring back at Frank, who chooses a book randomly and leafs through it until he finds the beginning of a chapter. He looks up at Father Way, still grinning. "Let's test your memory. What's the first sentence of Chapter Four?"

"You do not want to do this…" Father Way warns him, grinning in return. He closes the book in his hands and puts it on the small desk, leaning against the wooden piece of furniture and crossing his arms at his chest. "What book is that?"

Frank closes the book and takes a look at the cover. It reads, _The Bible and Homosexual Practice: Texts and Hermeneutics,_ by Robert Gagnon. He shows it to the priest who scrunches up his nose and gives a little sigh. "What, you don't know this one?"

"No, I do. I just wish I didn't," Father Way says, before pausing and asking, "I don't know every chapter by heart, but if you read the beginning of the first sentence…"

Frank complies. He starts reading, but Father Way starts reading over Frank's voice after the fifth word or so. Frank isn't really surprised to accompany Father Way's reading; he just grins at the book. The priest is very accurate with every word, but seems to drop hints of emphasis in what Frank notices to be controversial affirmations. Frank closes the book.

He chooses another one, and another, and the same thing happens. Whether Father Way likes the book or not, as soon as Frank chooses a page and starts reading a sentence, the priest starts speaking over him. It's quite impressive after the three examples Frank gets.

"Alright, one more," he says, closing the book currently in his hands with a little more force than he planned on. He looks around and spots the book Father Way was reading in the back room. He motions for it, but the priest grabs his hand before he picks it up.

"Not that one," Father Way says, in a hurry. Frank snaps his head to the side and is surprised to find Father Way's eyes wide and wild-looking. Father Way clears his throat, picks up the book himself and grasps it close to his torso. "I'm still… studying this one, sorry."

"Ah, it's alright. I think I'm convinced, anyway," Frank replies, not wanting to bother the priest. He's doing Frank a favor by choosing books for his research, so Frank can control himself. He decides to ask, instead, "What about the books with the opposite opinions?"

"Well, I've got a lot of great books on it, but at home. I could bring them to you, but where do you plan on working on this essay? Because I—" Father Way says, looking straight into Frank's eyes. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I'd rather not have you taking them to school." He sounds seriously concerned about the matter.

Frank feels very nervous about this. "Well, I don't think I should bring them home, I mean my mom goes to my room a lot. And she won't like the idea that I'm writing about this."

"She doesn't know?" Father Way asks, kind of accusingly.

"No. No one knows at home. I won't tell them until I've handed it in at school. Well, my dad kind of knows, he read my summary when I printed it in his office last night, but he's okay with it. My mom isn't, though," Frank explains, gulping again. The look Father Way is giving him isn't exactly comforting.

He hums. "I'm not gonna comment on that. You know I prefer the truth, but I think I — it doesn't matter what I think, does it?"

Frank shakes his head, kind of laughing, but he turns back into serious mode soon. He risks asking, "You don't think I could do it here?"

"At church?!" Father Way asks, like he's shocked. "This isn't a studying room, Frank, or a public library. We can lend you some books, we do that and register who took what, but we don't allow people to study here. I'm only reading in the back room because Father Clarence was at the front and I'm not taking confessions today. I'm sorry, but you can't do it here."

"I understand," Frank replies, honestly. "And the chairs in the back room are a little small for me even though I'm really short." He's trying to joke, but looks down while he thinks where else he can write this essay. At home, he's risking his mother finding out and prohibiting him of doing it. And he can't take all the books to school, so he doesn't know what other solution there is.

Then he remembers where some of the books are. "Where did you say you have the other books, the ones with the progressive view on this issue?"

"They're at my house," Father Way replies simply, staring back at Frank expressionless. When Frank remains in silence and looks expectantly at him, the priest seems to understand. He starts, "Oh you want to come to—"

But he's interrupted by a knock on the door. "Father Way, are you in here?" It's Father Clarence's old, shaking voice. Father Way responds affirmatively and the older priest comes in. Behind him stands Frank's grandfather with a closed face.

"It's time to go home, Frank," he says, before turning around to leave.

Frank doesn't have time to reply again. He looks back at Father Way, still expectantly. "Can I ask my parents to come?"

"I don't know, Frank. Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I wouldn't have to bring your books to school, at least," Frank says, never taking his eyes away from the priest's. He can still see Father Clarence in his peripheral vision, but takes little to no importance to his presence there. He's negotiating something here.

Father Way sighs. "I suppose. Well, ask them. I'm sure it won't be that bad to help you. Just—" He takes a pause, because Frank is already advancing on him to thank him with a hug. "Frank, you have to tell them the truth. It's always better."

Frank nods at him and thanks him, without the hug this time because Father Way took a few steps back. Maybe he's just a little insecure about physical touch. Frank can live with that. He tells him goodbye and waits for the two priests' blessing, before leaving the office, the back room and finally the church through the side doors.

**

"He invited you to his house?" Frank's mother asks, in a shocked voice. Frank tries to look at her, but reading her expression makes it harder than he thought. He hates when his mother is in this mood, because anything can happen.

"No. I need a few rare books for the essay, and he has them. He said he won't let me bring them to school and I understand why, and that I can't study on them at church because it's not a library. So I thought I could go over to his house to do my research," he replies, simply. He's trying to keep it honest at this point. There's no use of lying to her about this, otherwise she really won't let him go.

"Well, I suppose—"

"I don't think you should let Frank go," Frank's grandfather interrupts her, abruptly. He speaks quite loudly too, like he's making sure no one will stop him from sharing his opinions on the matter. Like anyone ever could. "God knows what books that sinner will make Frank read."

"How can you be so disrespectful, Grandpa? He's a priest like any other," Frank stands up for Father Way and the close relationship they've got going on for years.

"I doubt that."

Frank rolls his fists around the cutlery he's holding and bites his tongue, refraining from arguing even more and being disrespectful himself.

"You seem very defensive of him, Frank," his mother points out, clearing her throat.

"Yes, because he's helped me. I was assigned to a very difficult topic and I have to write twenty pages on it and if he has the books I need, why should I doubt that? He's willing to help me doing research." Frank pauses, dropping down his fork. "Not only that, but he doesn't care that I'm gay. Unlike you, he wants me to be free. You prefer to throw me out because I disagree with your views on religion."

There's silence for a moment, while Frank stares down at his plate and waits for any kind of response. He's willing to take anything by now, but he surely won't back down on his own opinion and religious views.

"Frank, you were raised in a Catholic home," his mother says, sounding much calmer than she ever did after he's reminded them about his sexual inclination. "How can you deny every teaching we gave you? How can you want to live in sin?"

"It's not only a sin, but a moral evil," his grandfather intervened, pointing his fork at Frank. He's the one who is always very loud and assertive while discussing this, using everything within his reach against Frank. "The Pope said it himself, and God spoke through him in his time. You need me to read you the Bible before bedtime again?"

"Well, I can get you books that teach otherwise! If only you'd cut your crap and let me do _research_ on them!" Frank threatened, but moderated his tone so that his lie isn't revealed. He has in fact told his family that he was going to write an essay about the several English translations of the Bible and compare the biggest differences in language and tone and specific words, and his father had actually covered for him. He can't give himself away, or he'll lose everything.

"I think Frank should go," his father says immediately. Frank actually sighs in relief, because it means that his father understood Frank's slight moment of panic of almost revealing the truth about his essay to his mother and grandfather. And how much of a disaster it would have been. "It's his final essay and he needs a good grade to graduate in peace and go to college. This is important."

Then he turns to Frank's grandfather and says, matter-of-factly: "And if it was such a big sin, God wouldn't have made him this way." The reaction he gets, though, is obvious. Frank's grandfather scoffs and looks elsewhere, like he's offended.

He can't feel worse than Frank, though. He says, "I thought you'd all love me no matter what, because that's what families do. I thought that's what _mothers_ do."

"Not when their sons become sinners." This is his grandfather, of course. Frank doesn't even have to look or identify the voice. The inflexibility of this reply and the harsh tone give it all away. Frank isn't at all saddened by the fact that his grandfather hates him for being gay; it makes him angry that he'd have to please such a high standard, in his grandfather's ideal world.

Frank sighs, before he gets too angry. Still, he has a response to his grandfather and this time he doesn't look away. He searches for the old man's deepest gaze and says, "I don't want my life to be ruled by religion, especially if it means to be offended by its idiocy every damn day. I find comfort in God, but if He made me queer and isn't proud of that creation, then He can go fuck Himself."

"Frank! Stop being disrespectful!" his mother warns him through a yell. Her hands are flat against the table, in her very own way of saying that this is getting off limits. The worst part, though, is that Frank has been causing this kind of atmosphere a lot lately.

He sits there frowning at the rest of his food, but his mother also seems to dislike that. She says, "You're going to your room when we're all finished with dinner, Frank, and won't come out until I say. This isn't about being gay or not. You're yelling at your grandfather and cursing at God. There are limits to how insolent you can be in this house and I've had it for tonight."

"Whatever you say."

And of course, after dinner is over and Frank helps his mother tidying up, she follows him upstairs to his bedroom. Inside, she orders him to sit down and he watches from the bed, with wide eyes, as she takes his laptop and iPod from the desk. She looks around for a little longer, in her usual check up that there isn't anything else she needs to take with her, and she gets his Bible from the bookshelf.

She says, "If you're going to be working on the translations of the Bible, you might as well start with your native language." He takes the Bible from her in respect more than willing to follow her order. Then she leaves him alone.

Frank glares at the door at the sound of the key turning on the lock from the outside, wishing he could glare at his mother instead. She's gone now; he can hear the footsteps down the stairs as the sound reverberates throughout the walls of the house.

He looks down at the Bible in his hands, then puts it down on his nightstand. He gets up and goes to his closet, retrieving his old mp3 player from a hidden shoe box. There are batteries next to it and Frank hopes they still last a long time, because he'll need to drown every other feeling through the loud music he knows he has in this player.

He lies in bed with one ear-bud on and the Bible now on his pillow, beside his head, in case someone opens the door and he has to quickly pick it up and dispose the mp3 player under the bedding. He sighs, mad at his family and their stupid beliefs that everything is wrong with him.

**

Tonight, he doesn't even have a wet dream. He's so mad at his grandfather and mother, at their traditionalist religion and conservative opinions, that he dreams of a white light that can only be God using a dragon's breath to smite his family.

**

At church, the next day, Frank doesn't want to go to the office. He wants to sit in a pew and face God and, if Father Way can keep him company and talk to him, even better. He sits down beside Frank, because Father Clarence is seeing people today and he can see Frank.

So he tells Father Way what happened last night, during dinner, including some of the awful things he said himself. It had been in self-defense, but Frank knows he was a little over the top. The priest supports the same cause, saying, "Standing up for yourself is important, but not to the point where you're feeding unnecessary fights."

Frank nods his agreement, as he already spoke to God through a moment of reflection before Father Way came to sit down next to him. He doesn't need any more anger in his life; he's mad enough that he apparently can't be who he wants among his own relatives. "I don't think this is just a teenage phase, and they need to understand that so that they can understand who I am. And if they don't want to understand, I'm still not changing."

"There is nothing wrong with that, Frank, trust me. Being truthful and respecting yourself while respecting others is more important than following the rules others impose on you. You'll see evidence of that if you get to read the books I've got at—" Father Way interrupts himself, flicking his hand in the direction of Frank's face. "Speaking of which. Did you get an answer from your parents?"

"Well, kind of," Frank admits, smiling. "My dad says it's fine. My mom, though, she said you'd better call her and tell her yourself that I asked to come over to your house to do research on your books. I think she wants to say yes, but still fears that I might be lying to her."

"Ah it's definitely imperative to come clean to her. She will doubt anything you say now, I mean you are at that age that you might lie to her just to get out from under her wing and go crazy. I'm sure she doesn't mean any harm," Father Way speaks in a very patronizing voice. Frank gets over it soon, as he asks, "What time should I call?"

"Is seven alright? Because as soon as I get home, my friends will get there for our band practice, but we finish at seven," Frank says, looking at Father Way with an inquiring look in his eyes. Frank is excited for this. He can't wait to see what kind of books the priest owns and in what way they can be useful for his essay. Father Way said himself that he had a lot of interesting things, from having studied the issue of homosexuality in the past and having been quite fond of discussing it, so Frank can only imagine the amount of great stuff there is at his place and all the things he knows by heart. At least, Frank wishes so.

Afterward, Frank gives him his mother's phone number and sits back in the pew, looking ahead of him at the altar. "Is everything alright, Frank?" he hears.

Looking back at Father Way, Frank flashes him a small smile. He's just feeling good about the fact that he's closer to start doing proper research on this essay. From what little information he found the other day on the Internet, while he was looking for random resources to add to the summary he had to hand in yesterday, Frank had become immediately excited. Now he just needs to make sure Father Way has the books he really needs for this.

Frank shares these thoughts with him, actually. Father Way smiles back at him and says, "You'll find a lot of interesting things, some will excite you, others will make you feel defrauded or something worse, who knows. However, I think that in the end you will feel very fulfilled. I understand every single reason why you chose to work on this, having come out so recently to your family and ultimately to the community, and I think it will be important for your self-esteem. At least, that's what I'm hoping for."

"I know, I feel the same," Frank replies and is about to add something when Father Clarence approaches them, clearing his throat and requesting Father Way's assistance. Frank lets him go, obviously, and stays put.

He looks over his shoulder to his grandfather who is sitting in the back, holding something in his hands and Frank sees his lips moving like he's murmuring something. That reminds Frank that he hasn't spoken to his grandmother in a few days, since this madness around the essay began for him, so he kneels down, crosses himself and starts forming words in his mind. He's speaking directly to her. He lost her two years ago and misses her terribly, because she was so dear to him and shaped him into the person he is today. He has a lot of gratitude to express, so he gets down to it while he's here.

As he's leaving with his grandfather, Father Way's voice calls him from behind. Frank turns around and finds him walking towards them with something on his hands. It's a book, Frank can see it once he's close enough. Father Way hands it to him and says, "Take this home and read it. It's a couple of documents the Vatican has published about the position of the Church toward homosexuality that I think you'll like."

Frank widens his eyes in panic because he chose not to tell Father Way that he hadn't really told his mother and grandfather about the topic he chose for his essay, but the priest only frowns back at him. Frank can't explain right now, with his grandfather right behind him, so he leaves it for some other time. He hopes, though, that what Father Way just said doesn't cause another fight when they get home.

"T-thank you," Frank stutters, bowing before Father Way. He responds with his usual goodbye line, telling Frank and his grandfather to go home in peace.

**

During band practice, Frank doesn't think of anything but music. He drowns in it once they start playing and doesn't resurface until the power is cut off at seven. He sends his friends off and goes inside, where he knows his whole family already is, most likely in the kitchen. And in fact, they are.

His mother is on the phone and Frank reminds himself that it might be Father Way calling to tell her about Frank going to his house to do research for his essay. Frank doesn't really freak out about it, he only smiles knowingly at his mother because he really wasn't lying to her, until she asks Father Way about what he knows about this essay. Frank gulps.

"Frank," his mother says, closing the call and putting the phone down. Frank goggles at her slightly in panic, because Father Way most likely told her that he's going to work on homosexuality, not translations of the Bible, but tries to disguise it soon enough. "I don't think there's a reason why I shouldn't let you go to Father Way's house. He says you told him about your subject and that he has found a nice amount of books at his place that might help you, so I say you can go. Your father already agreed, so we should make up a schedule so that you don't end up taking up all of his time, alright?"

"Sure!" Frank exclaims, quite relieved that she doesn't mention anything about his choice of theme. That must mean she doesn't know anything. Otherwise, Frank is sure she would flip out after finding out what he's really going to do research on. He smiles at her and pecks her cheek, thanking her twice, and also thanks his father with a wide grin. Then, he steps aside and tries to tell them he needs to use the bathroom. "I'm just going to—"

"You're going to show me that book _Father Way_ gave you before we left the church, Frank," his grandfather says with a glare.

"Why?" Frank dares to question him.

"I'm just curious about its contents. It's not every day we hear our grandson is getting books about homosexuals from our priest," is the reply Frank gets. He sighs and shakes his head, willing to obey just to hear the end of it. He doesn't know himself what's in the book, having laid it out on his bed along with his school backpack in between getting home and opening the front door to his bandmates.

"I'm going to the bathroom, then I'll go get it, Grandpa," he says and leaves the kitchen. Before that, though, he takes the book with him to the bathroom to make sure he won't get in trouble. From what he can gather from the few scattered sentences he's read, he's safe from getting another sermon on the evils of being a _homosexual_ _._

**

The next day, at church, Frank tells Father Way that they arranged things so that Frank goes twice a week to his house, to get a new book or work on his essay. Father Way agrees. As far as Frank knows, he was the one who told his mother on the phone, last night, that he could arrange to be free on Friday, during the afternoon, to take Frank to his house for the first time and show him the books he's got.

He will have to tell his friends that he'll be late for practice tomorrow and that they will probably have less time to play whenever Frank goes to Father Way's house. It's only twice a week anyway, so it shouldn't be a bother to his friends. And if they want to play, Frank is sure that his mother will open the garage door for them and, when Frank gets home, he can join them.

To him, this is a very nice deal.

He nods swiftly when Father Way tells him that he's quite busy today, since he will be taking confessions. Frank asks for permission to stay in the back room and read, but the priest tells him he better not. Father Clarence will be seeing people in the office and it could be seen as a bother. Frank doesn't mind. He'll just sit down and stare at God, like he's done when he had no essay in his mind and a very hateful grandfather staring at him.

**

Friday comes and Frank arrives at church with a renewed smile on his face, while his grandfather carries a deep scowl that had persisted throughout the entire ride from the school. He remains against the idea of Frank going to Father Way's house, but there's nothing he can do. Frank is in fact very glad that Father Way is available today, because he won't have to listen to his grandfather lecturing him about being unfaithful to God's laws or something equally conservative, later when he goes back home.

Friday evenings are when Frank and his band practice at the studio of a cousin of someone Jeremy knows, and when he gets to spend the night at Lukas's house. It's their movie night, just Frank and Lukas and Jonas, the only high schoolers in the band, obviously not old enough to go out and drink and, not being part of the party crowd, they do prefer to stay at home and watch horror movies until they fall over from tiredness.

Before that comes, though, Father Way is waiting for Frank outside the church with his briefcase in one hand and a coat hanging on his other arm. Frank gets out of his grandfather's car with a brief goodbye and follows Father Way to his vehicle, parked in the second spot of the church's parking lot.

Getting inside and sitting on the passenger seat, after being invited in by Father Way, Frank notices the pile of books in the backseat. Holding his school backpack on his lap, he can't be sure if he should grin or be worried, but he decides to make a joke out of it. "Am I going to need all that?"

Father Way follows the direction of the thumb Frank is pointing at the backseat and grins very widely at Frank. He says, "You never know, but probably not."

Frank reaches out to get one, but Father Way asks something about band practice and Frank forgets about it for a minute or two. The priest asks about secular things like Frank's major music influences, his goals in music, how far is his band willing to go to make it in the music business, and he even jokes about Frank recording a demo for him. Frank tells him that they have in fact been working on one for the past weeks, taking advantage of that small studio every Friday evening.

Frank finds out, while they're moving along the streets of their town, that Father Way was a regular guy with good taste in rock music, horror movies, videogames and comic books until his twenties. It's not really a surprise, because Frank knows everybody likes those things, but it's nice to know that Father Way was once a normal guy who went to art school to pursue a dream and generally had a pretty good life.

"Then why did you decide to become a priest?" Frank inquires, honestly curious. "It's not that I think you're not perfect for the job, but I never understood this 'calling' thing."

Father Way gulps a little before he turns to Frank with a smile barely gracing his lips. Frank is watching him closely and can see a few age lines on the corners of his eyes and mouth, mostly from the way he's biting on his lip and frowning. He's most likely buried in memories of what triggered him to join the seminary, so Frank doesn't want to interrupt. And well, it's far from unpleasant watching Father Way think.

He finally clears his throat and starts telling his story about when he was in art school and had a bad feeling one day, then decided to call home and found that a tragedy had in fact shaken his family. "A few months in, after my grandma died, I couldn't even go to class. I went through several phases of self-deprivation and started getting myself in trouble due to my grief. I had always been close to my grandmother, you see; she was the kind of person to attract every single soul into her circle of trust."

"And she had always been a very religious person. She taught me a lot of things as I spent most of my free time at her place, me and my younger brother. When she died and the problems started, he actually helped me get back up and once I felt better, after months of grieving and drowning in hatred for life and death, I joined the seminary."

"Why the seminary, though? I'm sure there were other ways of finding peace through your grandmother's memory," Frank says, knowing pretty well what it means to lose someone that meaningful to you.

Father Way smiles, caringly. "I became a priest in her honor. She had a deep love for God, for He gave her the life she had always dreamed of. You see, my grandfather had been a priest himself."

"You mean—"

"I mean, he abandoned the priesthood when he met my grandmother. They were very happy for decades. I never saw them fighting, and they still went out for dinner well into their seventies! They had a lot in common and their relationship was a blessing, towards each other and towards the family they raised together," he says dreamily, like he can never forget how it felt to witness such a relationship.

"That is such a nice story," Frank says in pretty much the same tone. When he notices, though, he straightens up in his seat and clears his throat. "I mean, that you went to the seminary kind of in memory of your grandfather's actions and to always honor your grandmother and her 'deep love for God'."

Father Way actually laughs a little, a baby chuckle in the back of his throat. "You might think it's lame, but it changed me a lot. Kind of like how they changed me in life."

"No, I think it's really nice. I mean, doing something not only because you want to, but because you can honor someone you once loved and ended up losing. I guess that's the kind of commitment the Church is looking for," Frank replies, as Father Way turns onto a house's driveway and stops. They're here.

"You got it all right, Frank." Father Way smiles at Frank one last time before he turns to get his briefcase, coat and the pile of books from the backseat. "But I still like mundane things. Don't speak of me like I'm the strictest priest in town."

Frank grins and giggles out loud. "Does that mean I won't find a house filled with creepy sacred art next to a mattress on the floor and a basin for basic needs?" He throws his backpack over one shoulder and offers help with the books while Father Way laughs of his own accord, echoing Frank's giggle.

"Of course not," the priest says, mock-offended, handing Frank the pile of books. He reaches into his briefcase and Frank can hear keys jingling from inside. "I made a vow of representing God and helping people while leading them in faith. I didn't vow to misery and religious reading."

"Ah well, it certainly does look like you do a lot of reading," Frank points out, gesturing with his armful of heavy books. Father Way grins at him before he turns left and takes them to the back of the house.

There's a staircase that gets them to the upstairs level, first to a balcony, then to the wooden door. Father Way gets his set of keys and opens the door, telling Frank about the house. "I live upstairs while my brother occupies the downstairs level, although we spend most of our time up here unless his girlfriend is around. We're really close. We always have been, but it got almost maniacal since we moved back in to town because it's only the two of us."

"So you did grow up here?" Frank asks curiously, confirming what he had heard about the priest. They're inside and Father Way closes the door again, putting his coat on a hanger and gesturing towards the next room. It's the kitchen, with the usual appliances, table and chairs.

"Yeah, that's why I wanted to come here too. Father Clarence spent a year without assistance, waiting for my ordination, but sometimes I think he regrets having me around," Father Way comments with a snort, shaking his head at his own words. "But it doesn't matter. I'm happy here, and so is Mikey."

"Mikey is…" Frank kind of asks, but a reply never comes, as he follows the priest through a long hall. Although it's nothing fancy and the basic decoration is pretty simple, Frank can't help but gape at some of the paintings and sculptures he sees lying around. "This isn't religious art, but there sure is a lot of it."

Father Way smiles at Frank over his shoulder and says, "They're my grandmother's." Frank looks at the back of his head with a sad face and doesn't say anything, but the priest stops and turns to one of the paintings on the wall, grinning fondly. "She made this one with Mikey. He was like, ten, I can't be sure, but I remember sitting in the same room doing homework and they were doing this on the floor. Mikey was naked. It was hilarious. There was paint all over him and the floor, very Pollock style."

Frank hums, pretending to know what he's talking about and nodding. Looking at the painting, it looks quite crazy, all random lines of paint and hands, feet and other forms everywhere. "It really looks like it was a lot of fun, that's for damn sure," he says, trying to distract Father Way away from the fact that he has no idea what he just meant, but it doesn't matter. Father Way doesn't even mention it.

He just says, "Yeah, it was amazing. C'mon, let's get to the library. All the fun you're supposed to have today is in there." Frank follows him.

Father Way takes them through the last door on the right and Frank bugs his eyes out at the size of the room. He had always thought he was lucky that the room his parents selected for him when he was just a kid was big, but this is practically twice the size of Frank's bedroom. There's a desk at the center with a couple of chairs and Frank moves immediately towards it, putting the books he's holding down on the desk. Then he looks around, finding, in the corner by the window, a couch and a TV-set. Under the windowsill, there's a small armoire with glass doors that seems to store DVDs. The rest of the room is all covered with dark wooden bookcases.

They're against every wall, except another corner with a painting hanging there, but it's pretty impressive. Only a couple of them aren't completely filled, probably for future books Father Way intends on acquiring, but there are toys on the empty shelves of the one with what looks like comic books.

"Why do you have _toys?_ " Frank asks, not really sure if asking this is appropriate. The truth is that Frank is aware that a lot of people collect these tiny things, but he simply doesn't see the point of it, but he can only hope he doesn't offend Father Way with his question. "Aren't you like—"

"What, too old for them?" Father Way scoffs at Frank, shaking his head. He walks closer to that bookcase and picks one up. "They're collectibles, Frank. I've always loved superheroes, and I started this collection when I was just a kid. I am very proud of my _toys,_ no matter what you think of them."

Frank giggles at that affronted reply, still shaking his head. He doesn't question it any further, because Father Way seems very protective of his toys; they might be collectibles, but they're still toys to Frank. He shrugs and keeps looking around, finding a few cardboard boxes lying around. "Are you moving?"

"No. We're sending some books to my mother's house. We're running out of space and she's retired now, so she'll give them a good read, I suppose."

Frank hums. "Are these all your books?" he asks, looking around again.

"No," Father Way replies, turning to Frank and they look at each other. "I'm a freak, but not that much. Some of them belong to my brother, too. When we're together, we're always here except when we're cooking. As you can see, there is a couch and a television in the corner with a lot of DVDs next to it."

"Yeah, it's nice to have your own space. It looks like you have a lot of fun here," Frank says, honestly. He's kind of a dork himself, so a room full of books sounds amazing, and the TV-set and all those DVDs in the corner seem pretty perfect to him.

"We do actually. My brother and I, we're complete geeks first and foremost." Father Way is grinning at Frank while he says this, which makes Frank grin back. The priest continues. "Basically, there's the movie section by the window, and then the comics bookcase, the fictional books and the religious books. All in separate bookcases. And as you can see, I'm only another guy, except with a sacred mark after my ordination."

"That changes everything, though," Frank says, trying not to sound too mysterious. He doesn't know himself what he means by that, but he lets it go, not giving much further thought about it.

Father Way sighs for some reason and turns to the bookcase that's closest to the door. He says, "Let's get to work, yeah?" Frank agrees with a small hum and throws his backpack to the floor before following Father Way toward the bookcase.

Immediately, the priest starts pointing at different books and telling Frank how useful they can be for his essay, just like he did at church the other day. This time, though, his tone is clearly more excited, showing how much he still is interested in the subject Frank is planning to write about. He speaks of a lot more books too, of different sizes, and there is a ring binder filled with articles on homosexuality and opinions and the studies of the Bible passages that approach the issue. Frank is trying to absorb all this information, but Father Way says too much, too fast. Frank can't keep up with it, but he does listen closely. It's a pleasure to hear Father Way talk about this, _like this_ _._ He's so excited and interested, and Frank loves these books just from the excitement in the priest's voice as he explains their content to Frank.

The first book Father Way actually picks up out of bookcase is humongous and Frank stares at it with wide-eyed amazement. He says, "You've got to be kidding me."

Father Way's laugh is loud and clear after Frank's terrified remark, but then he explains, "You won't have to read the whole book, don't worry. I doubt you would enjoy this kind of reading. This the Catechism of the Catholic Church, first published in 1994, two years after its first promulgation by the Pope John Paul II."

Frank's eyes are still wide. He can't believe the size of this book and the apparent delight in Father Way's eyes while holding it. It's incredible and Frank refuses to feel happy about studying from this monster. He highly doubts there's information there that he can use and he says this to Father Way, adding, "I mean, isn't the Catechism about the doctrine and the way the Church wants it to be taught worldwide? Like — like a rule book?"

"Yes, it was written to be an authentic reference text for teaching the Catholic doctrine and for preparing local catechisms, which is why it's not so useful for you," Father Way explains, smiling, putting that monster back on the shelf. Then he gets the book that's next to it, still big but not as scary, while saying, "Then we have this commentary on the Catechism, a lot smaller and easier to read, written by three progressive Italian bishops, back in 2005. Only a few chapters will be relevant for your essay and I'll point them out to you, but this book questions the major catechism in a very good way. If you read it whole, it wouldn't be a bad thing, because it's quite an enjoyable book, but we can save that for when you have finished your essay, I suppose."

"Ah. That's good news," Frank replies with a big sigh of relief, scratching his eyebrow. He notices that Father Way's eyes follow his hand up to his face and doesn't understand why, but he keeps scratching and Father Way doesn't move his eyes away from his eyebrow. Only when Frank finishes his previous thought, lowering his hand and saying, "If I had to read that entire thing for the essay, I'd rather write about something else."

Father Way laughs lightly, that baby chuckle at the back of this throat again as his eyes shift down, so he definitely sees Frank grinning. He looks back up at Frank's eyes and says, "Why is that? You can't handle a little heavy reading?" He grins right away, walking toward the desk and dropping the book on it.

Joining Father Way at the desk, Frank gets his backpack from the floor and retrieves his notebook and pens from it. Yesterday, he bought a brand new notebook for the essay, planning on taking a great amount of notes from Father Way's books and eventually writing the first draft of his essay on it. Frank sighs before he sets himself beside Father Way, watching him take the notebook and a pen, a red one. Frank watches Father Way open the big book to the table of contents and write in the notebook what pages will be the most important, pointing out the chapter titles and making it easier for Frank to identify what interests him and not.

Frank smiles pathetically at Father Way because he would rather hear the priest recite the book to him in that excited tone of voice than reading it. Frank has seriously never felt more pathetic with anyone than he's feeling right now, just listening to someone speak so easily and comfortably about something that Frank is actually very interested in. The worst part of it is that Frank shouldn't feel anything toward Father Way, even if it's only this attraction to his oral expositions, since he knows what he's talking about and shares Frank's interest in it, but that in itself gives Frank a lot of reasons to enjoy doing this with Father Way. Although he works for an institution that basically disagrees with what he's speaking of, that doesn't make Frank any less happy as long as Father Way helps him of his own volition. And he definitely doesn't seem to be doing this against his will, from the way he's pointing out information and running his hands excitedly all over his short, dark hair.

Meanwhile, Father Way has no idea about all the things going on in Frank's head and, ruffling Frank's hair childishly, he says, "You better start working on it before I recite it to you, Frank. And before you have to go home, of course. I'll be here, on the couch, reading by myself, alright?"

Frank widens his eyes and does his best to contain his grin, when he has just thought to himself that he wouldn't mind listening to Father Way the whole night and yet the priest finds it inappropriate that he might end up reciting the whole book to Frank. But anyway, it's probably better that Frank reads this himself, so he doesn't question his new tutor.

He nods and sighs, turning to sit down at the desk, but before Father Way gets to sit down himself, as Frank can see him over his shoulder, a cell phone rings. Frank turns his head to his backpack, where he has his own cell phone, but realizes it can't be his because of the ringtone. His phone has been set to his own personalized ringtone, not the custom ones, so he turns his head back to the couch and sees Father Way already walking back to his briefcase, by the foot of the desk. He looks at the screen and speaks again, "Excuse me, Frank. This might take a while, but make yourself at home."

He exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving Frank in the privacy of the library with only the echo of a greeting to Father Way's mother. Being alone in here and getting to feel comfortable is kind of complicated, though, because Frank has never seen so many books together. Well, maybe at the school library or the one downtown, but never in a private home. It's quite intimidating. All these books belong to Father Way and that is absolutely impressive, so much that Frank doesn't sit down to study for his essay. He decides to take a tour around the room and its possessions, to familiarize himself with this place, these things and the people they belong to.

Frank knows one of them as a priest, but what kind of person is hiding behind the collar? So far Frank knows that he self-proclaims as a _geek_ and has hundreds of books, but Frank wants to know more. He takes a deep breath and starts exploring.

He feels quite enthralled by the huge amount of items before him and grins at the room he's in. It's intimidating, but also very exciting. He has never been in the presence of such an impressive personal collection, but he soon gets past the first intimidation and now he just wants to get familiar with this grand collection of cultural items.

He starts with the small bookcase under the windowsill and the DVDs inside. He opens the glass doors carefully and stares at the titles there, finding a ton of horror movies that he recognizes and even likes, but there are also many that he has never heard of so he picks up each one of them, one at a time. He finds what seem to be old titles, like _The Flying Serpent_ and _The Mad Ghoul_ , but also more recent ones, like _The Dark Hour_ and _The Uh Oh Show_ , that by the cover looks more comical and gory. But Frank is not going to complain. His movie knowledge only goes back to the commercial horror movies people catch at the movie theaters, not any of the indie ones.

Moving on, he finds musicals and animation movies, and also several titles he recognizes by Cronenberg and Spielberg. Frank can't help but laugh when he finds _Titanic_ and _Romeo & Juliet_ and the lamest Disney movies, which don't really match up to the horror collection Father Way's got going on the other side of the armoire, but Frank can accept that he has an eclectic taste in movies.

He moves on to the comics bookcase and finds several DC and Marvel superheroes, including Frank's personal favorite, Doom Patrol. Now he understands the toy collection sitting around on the shelves, representing the comic books Father Way owns. Frank picks up one that looks a lot like Jean Grey, a character from X-Men that Frank is familiar with, but puts it down quickly because sometimes he's a little accident prone with small things and ruining these would most definitely make Father Way upset and disappointed. So Frank puts it back down and grabs a random comic.

It's an X-Men one that Frank remembers having borrowed from a friend. He likes comics, but doesn't own many books, but it's not because he can't afford them. He prefers horror movies and novels, but he takes a better look at the cover and ends up finding a _MW_ written on the top right corner of the cover and he remembers having heard Father Way call Mikey to his brother, so this must be his. He leafs through it and something falls to the floor from one of the pages.

Frank picks it up from the floor and it reads _Gerard & Mikey, 1996_ and Frank turns it around, finding a photograph. There's a younger version of Father Way's round face, although his hair is of a vibrant red and his smile is broader than Frank has ever seen on his face. Beside him, there's a more angular version of what is essentially the same face, with glasses and light brown hair, that must belong to Mikey. It's strange to see Father Way without a clerical collar, but it's nice at the same time. The red hair and the wide grin fit him better than Frank had thought possible; well, maybe he had thought about how Father Way might have been before his ordination, but he had never imagined red hair and foolish grins. Smiling at what he sees, Frank puts it back in the comic book and slides it back on the shelf.

The next bookcase is filled with books to an extreme, the sides almost bursting at the brim. Franks finds a few titles he has never heard of, and others he had heard of but has never read, such as Aldous Huxley, Jean-Paul Sartre and Jose Saramago. Then he finds his favorite writer's name, Stephen King, and all these books that Frank actually knows and owns himself, grinning down at every single one of them. Browsing some more, he finds the published works of Emily Dickinson, one of the few poets he likes to read, and his absolute favorite book of all time, _Brideshead Revisited_. He takes it off the shelf and caresses the cover, opening it. He wants to maneuver it carefully, to not destroy this beauty of literature, and checks the title page. Frank widens his eyes, alarmed. He closes it and puts it back, before the book melts in his hands, since this is a first edition and the oldest one Frank has ever held.

Turning around to the last bookcases, Frank takes a sideways glance toward the desk and the book and notebook on it, but moves on to the bookcase anyway. He's been there with Father Way and heard him explaining what would be useful and what wouldn't, but he wants to see what other titles Father Way owns. He doesn't find any he knows, of course, since they're all related to the Catholic Church or religion in general and Frank only really knows the Bible and now the Catechism.

Before he gives up and turns back to the desk and the work he's supposed to be doing, Frank sees a few titles on the top shelves that catch his attention. He focuses on them and doesn't remember Father Way talking about them, but _The Bible and Homosexuality_ seems generic enough and right to the point Frank wants to explore in his essay. He stretches his hand to it, but of course he can't reach it, because he's too short for Father Way's bookcase. It's annoying, but he's not stupid, so he gets the chair from behind the desk.

With another glance at his notebook and at his watch, Frank has second thoughts about this book, but he would rather check it out before he gets to work and forgets to ask Father Way about it. So he puts the chair back down by the bookcase and stands up on it, easily reaching for the book now. It's not too big, so Frank is definitely interested. He reads the blurb on the back cover and finds out that it's an anthology of articles that interpret how the Bible mentions homosexuality, but when he opens it to the title page, Frank reads something entirely different.

It says _Slave Boy_ in large, bold letters and identifies the author as Evangeline Anderson. Frank does a double-take at that, and checks the cover and that page again, realizing that there has to be some mistake here. He frowns down at the book and feels quite curious as to its contents, and why the cover doesn't identify the book inside correctly. Frank decides, then, to kill his curiosity by reading a bit, trying different pages and chapters, but he isn't sure of what he's really reading. He can't deny that it sounds a lot like porn, though, and that it has to be an erotica novel. It seems wrong that a person like Father Way would own such a book and hide it behind a fake cover. It feels wrong to find this book in here and to find more than enough mentions of _cock_ for Frank to understand that maybe it's not about the Bible. And that maybe he's not supposed to read this.

Maybe it doesn't even belong to Father Way, but Frank checks the top right corner on the first page and finds _GW_ written there, and that certainly doesn't stand for Father Way's brother's name. Frank tries to look for specific information on the author, but can't find it because it probably is on the original cover and this one doesn't seem to have come originally with this book.

This is gay erotica, Frank is sure of it when he finds a description of explicit sex close to the end of the book, and it definitely does not mention the Bible as much as once. He puts the book back, his eyes wild with confusion, and tries to decide what to do now, feeling quite incredulous about this.

Getting a different book, the cover identifying it as an analysis to the books of Samuel from the Bible, Frank remembers Father Way speaking of Samuel. He had said it's a controversial book because of the famous mention of a relationship between David and Jonathan, if Frank recalls his words correctly. Well, he opens this one book anyway and the shock still reverberates through him when he finds a completely different title inside and the little _GW_ in the corner.

 _Erotica Exotica_ doesn't really seem related to the books of Samuel, but Frank still browses through it and reads a few paragraphs. He gets distracted by one of the short tales, involving a college student and his horrifying experience with tentacles slithering out of his toilet to grab at his balls. Frank takes one hand to his own balls and closes the book altogether, realizing he really shouldn't be reading this. It's too weird and it's not his, so he puts the book back where it belongs before Father Way comes in and finds him there, exploring his literary porn stash. And Frank certainly wouldn't know how to confront Father Way about these books.

Frank grasps a lower shelf with one hand for balance and tries to climb down from the chair, but he snaps his head to the side when he hears a sound from outside the door. He also sees the doorknob turning and starts freaking out, so his hand slips on the bookcase and he trips on the edge of the chair. In the end, he falls on his ass as the door is opening and Father Way comes in. He has this crazy look on his face, but Frank loses his focus quickly because there are books falling all over him. He covers his head with one arm and hears an awkward squawk from Father Way, then in a worried voice, "Frank! Are you alright?"

Frank takes his arm down when no more books seem to be falling and looks up at the priest, feeling guilty and embarrassed. Father Way is crouching beside him and throws a hand out to help Frank up, but they don't say anything just yet. When he's up, he helps the priest pick up the books from the floor, but feels his cheeks flushing when Father Way looks up and Frank follows his gaze, seeing that the books that fell came from the top shelves. He looks back at Father Way, who is smiling apologetically for some reason, but holds this wild look in his eyes. Frank can actually understand why, now that he knows what's in those books up there. But should he tell Father Way that he _knows?_

He stares at Father Way and says, "I'm sorry. I was checking some of the titles, but I'm too short and had to stand up on the chair. I didn't mean to slip and fall down and bring all the books down with me."

"It's alright," Father Way replies, with a more serene look and his armful of books that actually make him look rather attractive. Considering what Frank just read, these thoughts aren't helping his cause. Then he sees Father Way arching his eyebrows and hears him asking, "Are you hurt?"

"I think I got some bruises to look after tomorrow, but other than that I'm fine," Frank guarantees, but Father Way widens his eyes seemingly for no reason. He might be as embarrassed as Frank, about his erotic possessions. Frank watches him put the books back in the bookcase, easily without the aid of a chair although he still needs to stand on his toes to put back the ones from the very top shelf. And Frank is pretty sure he can guess why every single book is up there and sort of out of reach, even for an average height adult man. He gulps at the knowledge he has now and feels his heart beating fast, on the account of what he just found out in a priest's private library, because he can't make up his mind as to what he should do next.

Father Way helps by asking, "Have you found anything that interests you more than the Catechism?" His voice is quite assertive and almost frightening, which makes Frank flush some more, but he shakes his head.

"I didn't even read anything," he lies, having decided that he should think this through before confronting Father Way. He needs to figure out his feelings and thoughts on the erotica books. He gulps nervously when he thinks back to it and when his eyes meet Father Way's, but he forces a smile out and tries to look comfortable.

The priest takes his eyes away, looking back up at the top shelf, and Frank bites back a comment about it. He isn't ready to come clean to Father Way just yet, although he knows that Father Way wouldn't judge him if Frank told him what really happened just now. The priest has in fact told him that everybody is a physical creature, emphasizing the _everybody_ a few days back. Based on that, Frank doesn't really feel embarrassed anymore, so he just watches the priest lean toward the bookcase with his palm against the books on the second shelf. When he looks back at Frank, he says, "Next time, wait for me and I'll come discuss more books, if you need them. Just don't— I mean, be careful around here, I beg you. Some of these books are really old."

Frank nods, agreeing to be more careful next time. For now, he prefers to let this little incident slip out of his mind, before he re-approaches the subject.

Father Way nods back at him, before clearing his throat. His eyes aren't wild-looking anymore, having gone back to their calmness. Frank looks down at his collar to remind himself that this man is a priest, not just any bookworm who needs to keep his porn away from the wrong eyes, and certainly not just another man who needs to get off to erotica tales. Frank keeps telling himself that, in the silence they share for a tiny instant, just long enough to be awkward, not taking his eyes away from the collar, but feeling Father Way's eyes on him. He only looks up when Father Way speaks again.

"Are you finished with those chapters I told you to read?" Frank shakes his head.

He makes a move toward the desk, bringing the chair by the bookcase back to where it belongs and sits down. He looks down at his almost empty notebook, then admits out loud: "I was just taking a tour around your library and I just— I had a little accident, that's all. I can't help that I'm short and you had the most appealing titles up there."

Father Way sighs slightly, but nods solemnly at Frank. They don't speak for a while and Frank is sure it's because they both know what's up there and, while Father Way surely can't tell Frank about it, Frank can't tell Father Way that he already knows what's in those books and that they are most certainly forbidden by the Church. Frank feels his cheeks blushing again, but he hides it easily by looking down and grabbing a pen. He sees, in his peripheral sight, that Father Way is moving toward the couch with a book in his hands and Frank can't stop his mind from wondering if it's porn that he's reading. Sighing a little on his own, Frank turns to the book and the pages Father Way jotted down in his notebook. Frank is determined to read them now, pushing all the rest to the back of his mind. There isn't much time left until he has to go home, but he will manage.

He reads and takes notes and throws glances over his shoulder, to find Father Way engrossed in his own reading. He can't help but feel his heart beating fast and a shiver running down his spine at the mere thought that the book Father Way's reading might be from that top shelf, and then Frank looks up at the bookcase and can't be sure if there are books missing or not. Shaking all those ideas away, Frank tries to focus, but it's just too hard to because he's in the same room as a priest and his secret porn stash, and Frank has no idea how to act. In the end, he pretends to read and takes random notes that he can disregard tomorrow or whenever he comes back to this book.

Around six forty five, Frank is frankly nowhere near finished with Father Way's suggestions, but the priest calls him because it's time to go home. The problem is that Frank has barely any notes and well, practically no idea what he just read. He admits, "I was a little distracted, sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me," Father Way says, softly, with one hand squeezing Frank's shoulder. He suggests that Frank takes the book home to read during the weekend, along with the one he sent Frank home with a couple of days ago. When Frank blinks at him, actually worried about having these books at home, telling the priest how his grandfather had asked about that other book, Father Way says, "Don't worry about your family reading them, Frank. They're mostly books written by the Vatican people, it'll be alright."

Frank nods and promises to treat both books well, honestly. He even bows his head in reverence, but they end up laughing at Frank's goofy bow. He thanks Father Way again and it's the last thing he says until he's home, Father Way driving him there himself.

Frank remains silent during the entire ride home, clutching his backpack, which is holding the borrowed book, to his chest. He's remembering the books he read and how he needs to figure out the best way to prod at the subject with Father Way. After all, he deserves to know that Frank has found what is probably a secret and that it's safe with Frank, but he isn't absolutely sure about his feelings toward it. It's overwhelming to know that Father Way owns that kind of books and more specifically to imagine what he does with them, alone somewhere with his mind and his hands roaming freely through those pages and sensual tales. He is not the first person that Frank knows to own porn; he knows about his friends and even about his father, but this man is a priest. He's not supposed to have homosexual tendencies, let alone read stories of men having sex with other men. He knows he needs to just forget about the whole thing, but how it is possible when he can't stop thinking about it?

How can Frank ignore the fact that Father Way, a priest he knows so well and trusts so much, has a shelf or maybe more full of porn books? Gay porn, especially, because those speak to Frank in a very personal way and he wants to avoid that influence on his mind toward Father Way. It's already as confused as it can get about homosexuality and the respective conduct among other men.

When they finally arrive, after a silent and uncomfortable car ride, Frank gets out of the car immediately, but Father Way doesn't come out. Frank wonders why, but he barely takes three steps around when his own mother comes out of the house to greet them. "Hello, Frank. Father Way, good to see you. Thank you for bringing Frank back home. My husband isn't at home yet and I'm busy making dinner, so there wouldn't have been anyone to pick him up. Thank you."

Father Way smiles at her and gets out of the car, but Frank wishes him a good night and excuses himself. He goes into the house, up the stairs to his bedroom and drops the backpack on the bed, coming back downstairs because he's sure his mother will need him to do something. By the kitchen door, however, he hears his mother laughing lightly at something and wonders if his father has already arrived, but Father Way is the one walking inside after Frank's mother.

"What's going on, mom?" he asks, confused about finding Father Way in their house when he apparently didn't even want to leave his car before.

"I invited Father Way for dinner and he accepted," she replies, with a cordial smile towards the priest. He nods and smiles back, politely, while Frank watches with wide eyes. It seems like Frank won't be able to relax just yet.

His father comes home just as his mother is turning the oven off and, in the end, the meal goes on rather smoothly. Frank knows it's because his grandfather isn't around, while his parents eat and chat away with Father Way, looking quite pleased. Frank's grandfather wouldn't even have agreed to have Father Way sitting at this table, Frank is sure. He's definitely thankful that every Friday evening his grandfather goes out to the Seniors Club to have dinner and play card games with his friends.

Frank gets Father Way's books out of his mind for a while, and feels peaceful and happy for the moment. It's a nice meal indeed, not listening to the radio whatsoever, but to the actual sound of people talking among each other. There is nothing more appealing than that, right now.

The nervous feelings start to shake Frank, though, after his mother serves the dessert. She prepared a lemon cheesecake earlier, she admits while putting the platter in the center of the table, in her hope that Father Way would accept the invitation. Then, she sits down and serves them all quietly, before sitting down and asking the priest about homosexuality. Frank gags on his first mouthful. She looks quite fondly at him, though, which is odd, although Frank has never really doubted her love for him, despite her religious beliefs. Still Frank feels his heart beating faster again and he has some difficulty swallowing that bite of cheesecake while Father Way starts responding to Frank's mother.

He is very assertive in his answer, of course. Frank never expects anything from him but pure honesty. Father Way explains his views on it very thoroughly, in the same open way he has been talking to Frank throughout the last years. He doesn't forget to mention how it doesn't affect his beliefs in any way because everybody comes clean to God the way He made them, heterosexual, homosexual or asexual. He says,

"In my honest opinion, one's sexual inclination shouldn't matter, but people interpret God's words the way they want. For example, I think everybody should have an opportunity to read the Bible in its original language. I am aware that it's impossible because it's practically dead and the original writings are all long gone, mostly destroyed over time. It's not just about the translations, because the texts have been rewritten over and over again to preserve them. I'm sure that, more than once, a righteous monk or priest has made an interpretation of their own and changed it up a bit, so reading one translation is not nearly enough because—"

"Take the English example. There are so many translations of the Bible to English, and they're all very different, so reading one and refusing to compare the others easily creates narrow-minded opinions. When people don't have access to other interpretations of the truth, they will do anything to defend what they have had contact with and the world becomes too orthodox to live in. It's very difficult to share a place with someone who utterly disagrees with us, but of course there will always be different opinions on homosexuality, as in many other controversial issues." He finishes with wide eyes and clears his throat, before looking down at his plate.

With Frank, Father Way has never taken his view on homosexuality so broadly; it's always been about the rejection from the Church and the difficulty in dealing with those issues when being a Catholic. He finds it hard to swallow his dessert along with this new exposition, especially as it was unbelievably convincing. It wasn't exactly the words, but the way Father Way said them, and the way he gestured a lot with his hands and used his eyebrows to help get his point across. It was really, really convincing, even for Frank, who certainly doesn't need to be convinced of anything.

His mother hums around her mouthful and Frank takes a swift glance towards her, but he honestly can't take his eyes off of Father Way. It's not that Frank finds him attractive, per say, but the way he always speaks with this eloquence, always saying the right thing, goes a long way. Frank only gets distracted when his mother calls his name and says, "Surely you have heard this before. I mean, your essay is about the different translations of the Bible, isn't it? Yet you seem rather surprised to hear this."

This is when Father Way looks at Frank with questioning eyes and arched eyebrows, but Frank only smiles guiltily. He knows he'll have to explain it to Father Way later, explain all the reasons why he hasn't told his mother about the true theme of his essay, like the priest had asked of him. That will have to come later, though, because the conversation moves on with a new question from Frank's father. Thankfully, Frank has an ally at home as well, but he does see his father frowning down at him.

This question and answer conversation goes on after dinner with Frank's mother sounding really curious and Father Way seeming very satisfied to reply, with many words and gesturing with his hands, fast and enthusiastic. They move into the living room, while Frank's mother offers a glass of their Italian liqueur to Father Way, who accepts politely.

Frank is sitting down on the couch, wide-eyed as Father Way speaks about his past with an alcoholic problem that turned out pretty well in the end, but Frank barely has time to scrunch up his nose at the strong scent that starts filling the room before his cell phone rings. His friends are picking him up in ten minutes, so he goes get ready. He prepares an overnight bag and goes down to the garage to get his guitar, passing by the living room and smiling at the fact that Father Way is still talking fast and gesturing with his free hand.

Then Frank is fully ready, guitar case in one hand, overnight bag over his shoulder and a smile on his face, properly responding to Father Way's happy gaze and grin.

He approaches the priest and, at the sound of a car horn outside, he thanks him again for having let Frank come to his house. Father Way says it was his pleasure and that he expects Frank to come again next week, as they arranged. "Have fun tonight, Frank, and don't forget about my demo."

Frank grins and says, courteously, "I'll bring it to church tomorrow, Father. Good night."

"Good night, Mom, Dad," he says last, practically out the door already. He grins at his friends from this distance and pulls the door closed quickly, running to Jeremy's van. Tonight they're going to his friend's studio and, as always, Frank is excited. Nothing else is on his mind right now, rather than his band and his music and the demo they are working on.

**

At the studio room, they work on finishing up their last recording. So far, they have spent the last few weeks working on this demo CD, having recorded three originals and two covers. They decided to do this so that they could take advantage of the space they've been let into and the good equipment, trying to get as good quality recordings as they can.

Tonight, Frank works twice as hard as he usually does because he knows that Father Way will be getting a copy of their demo. He's doing this for his personal gratification, since he's going to make a copy of this demo and offer it to his family and eventually to Father Way, as he requested. He also wants this demo CD out for the sake of his band's future, however that may turn out, as they've always been committed to this band full-heartedly.

They might be just another group of friends or a garage band, but Frank thinks they deserve this. They've been friends for a long time already, and have been practicing very often, and have always kept a good spirit among themselves, so there's nothing to be ashamed of. They might have never played a show for more than two or three friends, but they are a band and they need to get out of the garage if they want to get somewhere for real.

With that dream in mind, they leave the studio around midnight.

**

Jeremy and Gordon leave Frank, Jonas and Lukas at the latter's house for their movie night. It's mostly fun, watching DVDs and making jokes, or making stupid comparisons between movies and laughing some more, or simply eating popcorn and getting high on sugar. Tonight, Lukas treats them with some pot, though, and they progress on their high, Frank never having smoked anything else besides the cigarettes they manage to buy off their contact in school. Overall, they just have fun, talking about movies and shit.

Frank loves the nights when he gets to hang out with his friends, because they're so much better than going out using fake IDs because that's rarely fun at all. They don't go out much, unless there is a gig in town they really want to see. In the end, he remembers seeing three AM flashing in bright letters on the TV-set, but he falls asleep soon, in the sleeping bag he brought with him, to the sound of giggles.

**

They're by the couch, but still standing up. Their bodies are very close. They are making out heavily, Frank's hands in his hair, Dream Guy's leg wrapped around his calf. Frank is almost naked, wearing only his boxer briefs, while Dream Guy is fully dressed in his black pants and button up shirt.

Everything happens in a haze. Frank pushes Dream Guy down on the couch and takes his cock out of his pants, opening his mouth and taking it in. It doesn't even matter that he hasn't done this before, or that his lips are stretched too wide, because all these sensations are very inciting.

Frank pulls his head back and watches Dream Guy jerking off and, when he comes, Frank leans down and laps at the white come on the guy's stomach. He doesn't even notice the taste in this crazed moment.

Frank looks up, afterward, and now he can see a grin on Dream Guy's face. It looks oddly familiar, but Frank can't put his finger on why. He climbs over the guy's body, but he catches a glimpse of a clerical collar on the neck of Dream Guy's shirt.

"What?" he murmurs, and looks closer. There's a priest's collar there. Frank closes his eyes in panic. Frank shakes his head at himself, not believing his own eyes.

When he opens them to check that he isn't delusional, he's lying on his stomach. He groans and buries his face in the pillow, except his pillow is not there. He closes his eyes again and wishes the mental images away, because it can't be real; he can't be dreaming about a priest.

Frank remembers he's sleeping at Lukas's house and groans, not believing that he had a wet dream at a friend's house. He was never fine with these dreams to begin with and tonight breaks all kinds of boundaries for him. The worst part is that he's hard and he doesn't want to jerk off to a dream of a priest. Because he is not attracted to any priest; _he can't be._

Since his cock won't go down and Frank is annoyed, he gets up and goes to the bathroom, one hand covering his crotch, and locks the door. He just throws his sweatpants down his legs and leans against the closest wall. Then he finally jerks off.

Having been raised Catholic, Frank really fucking hates when he can't refrain from pleasing his body. The dreams make him go crazy, disregarding every teaching he's received since he was a kid, but tonight he slams the breaks on his mind and keeps it off his last wet dream. In the end, Frank comes to an empty mind.

It's a much better image than that fucking collar.

**

Later that morning, Frank goes home and first things first, he locks himself up in the bathroom for a shower where he scrubs at his whole body really harsh, to take all that dirtiness off of his mind. He dreamed of a fucking priest, or having sex with a fucking priest, and that is unacceptable. He needs an excuse to stay away from the church today.

There is too much on his mind right now, with Father Way's erotica books and this collar on Dream Guy's neck. Fuck this. Frank needs to get laid. Fuck his sexless life.

**

Yet the same thing happens on Saturday night. Frank dreams of blowing his Dream Guy, although this time Dream Guy is standing in an empty room with a naked Frank down on his knees. Dream Guy holds Frank's head and establishes a rhythm to please himself, practically fucking Frank's throat raw until everything goes back to hurting, gagging him, choking him until Frank is breathless and Dream Guy pulls out and comes on his face. Frank looks up and well, there it is again. A priest's collar.

He buries his face in Dream Guy's crotch and jerks off with his eyes closed, but opens them when the guy pulls at his hair. Now, though, he sees his empty bedroom, with the Sunday morning light coming in through the shades on the window. This morning, Frank doesn't care. He jerks off in bed, hearing sounds just outside his door, but it doesn't matter. He needs this immediate release, and also a fucking miracle to get these stupid wet dreams to stop.

Yet Frank imagines the collar, and he can't stop imagining Father Way on his couch, in the library, with a book in a hand and the other down his pants, and it gets so hot that Frank has to pause and throws the bed covers away. He needs a little freedom after a week of frustrated masturbation, caused by dreams he never asked for. Shaking his head and closing his eyes again, Frank goes back to those filthy but gorgeous images and jerks off to them, hard. He comes even harder, panting afterward, holding his softening cock while he gathers his breath. He calms down by letting the images slip out of his mind at their own pace and, in the end, he releases a deep breath, finally relaxed again.

He opens his eyes and well — his mother is standing right there, holding the door open with one hand and a pile of clean laundry on the other. Frank jumps up in bed, grabs the pillow to cover himself up as she asks, "Someone from school?"

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he yells at her, crouching against the headboard of his small bed. He's using his flimsy pillow to protect his modesty, or what little of it is left, but— How long could she have been standing there? And how didn't he hear the fucking door? He can't believe his mother just saw him jerking off. Frank sighs. "Fuck."

She doesn't even say anything, just walks in and puts the laundry down on his desk. When she turns back to him, Frank tries to disappear behind the pillow, but of course it's impossible, so he just glares at his mother and brings the covers over himself. The best he can do is to look down because this will most likely earn him a big sermon later on today no matter what. He even keeps his gaze down as his mother adds, "Your father is almost finished. You should get up and shower too, alright? Quickly. We don't want to be late for mass."

Frank closes his eyes because today it really is Sunday and he has to obey his mother. Yesterday, he managed to hide behind his school work, but today he knows he can't make up enough excuses to stay at home. His family simply won't allow him to do so. It simply doesn't matter that, for the second day in a row, he doesn't want to step foot into the church.

**

The whole family gets to church before the service is set to start. They choose their usual spot in the back, sitting down in silence. Frank is in between his parents and his grandfather is sitting beside his mother. They're all doing their private rituals, his father looking down, his mother on her knees and his grandfather holding the family rosary, while Frank simply sits down and tries to keep his mind empty. He can't take his eyes off the altar, though; Father Way is there, preparing everything for the service, along with the single altar server.

Frank can't tear his eyes away, looking down at the clothes Father Way is wearing, his dark slacks and black shirt and of course at the clerical collar visible on his throat. He realizes just now how obvious it has always been, about who has been in his dreams. Frank didn't see the truth before Friday night and he actually preferred it that way, when he didn't know and things didn't have to be so awkward for him.

It's so weird to realize that he seems to be attracted to a priest. Frank looks away, suddenly feeling too hot under his Sunday clothes. He fidgets with his hands, looking down at them to avoid the altar and Father Way. Then, he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns his head to his left, where his mother is already sitting down. She asks him, "Are you alright?"

Frank shrugs, because it's not like he's going to admit what is wrong with him. She already ordered him to go for an extra session for confession today, at the breakfast table, so it's not like he could object. She reminds him of that, adding, "Don't worry. I'm sure Father Way won't mind hearing your confession after mass. You'll feel better, then."

Frank nods, but he seriously doubts that. He wants to avoid Father Way, not come to him and tell him how he's been dreaming of his collar and of blowing his cock and how he has jerked off to the thought of Father Way masturbating in his library to his erotica books.

Sighing, Frank speaks openly to God, apologizing for his teenage urges that make him so dirty, mentally and physically, and speaks to his grandmother, asking her for advice and any way to calm himself down and stop the dreams since they're getting so out of hand. Frank remains looking down, lost in his own contemplation until his mother touches his elbow and he lifts up his head. The service is starting.

Father Clarence is presiding, of course, with Father Way there to assist him and take care of the liturgical group, the people who do the readings every Sunday, and speaking afterward, in his always inspiring homilies. Both priests are wearing their robes now, which is better because like this Frank won't have any more visuals to add to his overactive imagination, but he's so wrong.

Father Way reads the Gospel every single week, but today it is actually difficult to listen to him, more difficult than any other day. Frank tries to focus on the words he's reading, but he can't help focusing on Father Way's straight position, the way his hands are holding the book on the pulpit and his mouth is moving accordingly to the sounds he's producing, moving so easily like he knows this by heart — and knowing Father Way, he probably does. But the problem is that Frank still can't control his suggestive mind and keeps imagining Father Way reading his porn books in that grave voice, so soft and dark like a winter night. Frank shudders all over.

This hell will never end, Frank thinks, because they sit down and will now have to listen to Father Way say his homily, interpreting today's readings and spreading his knowledge in that eloquent way of his. Frank might as well just go straight to Hell.

His mother elbows him right on his ribs, hissing, "Pay attention!" He doesn't remember the last time he heard those words from her, but it was doubtlessly when he was still a child and kept being distracted by everything else.

It goes on and on, and doesn't stop, with Father Way standing there in the shadow of Father Clarence as mass continues. He looks so focused and determined and even kind of attractive, Frank has to admit, although he wants to forget about that. He shouldn't be thinking of these things during mass, especially about a direct servant of God.

Frank looks around, trying to discard those thoughts. In the end, his mother scowls at Frank for being so distracted today, and his grandfather obviously intervenes, saying, "You should listen to God's words right now. It'll be important to repent and make the right decisions."

More than ever, Frank wants to nod and agree with his grandfather, because he could certainly need better guidance in this matter, yet he doesn't bother to comment. If he does, he will never hear the end of his grandfather's _I told you so's_. Right now, Frank needs an excuse to go home right away, but the way his mother is squeezing his arm tells him enough. He knows it's useless to argue, because he will have to speak to Father Clarence and Father Way, as they always do after mass.

Frank definitely didn't mind last week and every other Sunday before that, but today he doesn't want to be up close with Father Way and there's nothing he can do about it. They're already in the vestry along with other people and Father Clarence is speaking with a few, having taken off the ritual robes. Frank finds Father Way in the corner by the closets, slipping his own over his head, aided by the young altar server. Frank looks away because he can't just stand there and stare at him and visualize the rest of those clothes coming off. He can't, and he won't.

Instead, he smiles and bows in reverence to Father Clarence when he and his family approach the elder priest, accepting his blessing with the usual respect. Maybe a little more today. Yet his eyes flicker to the corner just as Father Way is turning around and looking at him. Frank looks away.

He feels really nervous now. He shoots a nervous look at his mother, terrified that she will force him into confession and of course she doesn't forget about it. She apologizes to Father Clarence and calls Father Way, saying, "Father, would you mind having a quick private session with Frank? I believe he has a few things to get rid of."

Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, finally looking back at Father Way. "I certainly don't mind," he hears the priest say, focusing on his brown eyes and _not_ on his mouth. "Frank?"

Father Way is asking for his consent to go on that quick private session, and Frank could very well refuse and just run away from the church. He doesn't do it, though, because it would be disrespecting his mother and his priest, and he doesn't need any more sinful marks on his soul, he supposes. He nods at Father Way and accepts his tender hand on Frank's shoulder.

"Excuse us, Father Clarence. Ma'am." The priest presses down on Frank's shoulder and he starts walking toward the back room, but he's glad to hear Father Way ask him: "Do you want to come to the office, or—"

"Would you mind if we took this outside?" Since Frank has to confess his sins, as his mother insisted with him, he would rather do it away from his grandfather's ears. Father Way nods, politely, with a small smile hanging on his lips.

They go outside through the small door in the back room, into the little garden by the church. There is also a brick wall, small enough so they can sit on it. Frank sits down and invites Father Way to sit beside him, as he looks down quietly, contemplating what to say. He's honestly not sure about how much of the truth he should share with the priest and how much he can keep with himself. After all, this isn't a regular confession.

Frank looks up after a few moments, finding Father Way's rather serious expression. "Is everything alright, Frank?"

At first, Frank remains quiet, but he ends up sighing and shaking his head. Father Way will wait patiently, if Frank wants to take his time, but he knows his mother and grandfather wouldn't be so lenient. So he opens up to Father Way. "Well, basically my mom walked in on me again this morning while I was jerking off."

"Ah." Father Way is smiling softly again, knowing perfectly well how Frank's mother can be. The last time this happened, it convinced Frank to come out to his family, but right now he's sure it seems like an even bigger sin to his family, since they will assume that he was thinking of a guy while doing it.

Father Way listens to him, in silence, as Frank speaks of how frustrated he has become because of his dreams, and how he often tries not to be led into temptation. "But they always get worse, if I don't touch myself, so I gave up this morning and just went down on my dick with everything I had. And then my mom was standing there after I finished, and I don't know how much she saw or if I moaned something embarrassing. The only thing I have a problem with is my mother, but of course she's worried about my soul and the venial sin."

Frank can't tell Father Way about the details of the dreams or the porn books that he has found in the library, which is basically what triggered this whole obsession with Dream Guy wearing a collar and led Frank to that emergency this morning. He can't confess these facts to Father Way because he is definitely embarrassed of what he found on Friday, dreamed about later that night and finally imagined this Sunday morning.

Frank shifts on the wall, silent again, and Father Way intervenes at last. "There's something else going on, Frank. Why don't you tell me about that?"

Frank shakes his head. "I have to go."

"Frank, it's alright," Father Way says, pulling on his arm as Frank is already getting up. He stares straight into Frank's eyes, which is an honest but uncalled for gesture. Frank looks away, but Father Way lifts his chin up with one hand. "You can tell me."

"No, not yet. I need to figure some things out first, but I'll tell you," he replies, pulling his arm back from Father Way's grasp. He shrugs, adding, "Eventually."

"If you're sure." Father Way looks at him from under his long eyelashes, like he's trying to read something else off of Frank. But Frank looks elsewhere, not really able to confront his face when the collar on his neck has been in his wet dreams more than once now. Still, it feels nice to hear him say, "I'm always here for you."

"Thank you." Frank smiles at him and asks for his blessing, before turning around.

He knows he has to tell Father Way about all those things that bother him, especially because if he doesn't talk to someone he will never get rid of this awkwardness. And there is nobody else he can trust with this, because if he tells someone that is not Father Way, the embarrassment will be unbearable. And also, if it gets out and his mother finds out, she will take her earlier promises back and she'll be merciless and throw him out way before he's twenty-one.

Frank sighs. He needs to do something that won't make him think of Father Way and everything related to him.

**

While the rest of the Sunday and the whole Monday turn out to be good days, despite the awkwardness crawling under Frank's skin and the way he's perpetually distracted in class, Tuesday is fucking impossible.

Frank goes back to Father Way's house as arranged and because he is in fact finished with the two books and needs more material. Frank tries his best to keep the weirdness at bay, including any thought of wet dreams and erotic literature, so he talks of music while Father Way drives them to his house. The priest asks him about the demo Frank promised he would bring for Father Way, and Frank has indeed brought the CD with him. He puts it in the player in Father Way's car and they end up talking nonstop about the songs the band has recorded. Frank listens attentively to Father Way's critiques, accepting the ones he thinks are accurate and discussing over the ones that he thinks need to be clarified, engaging them in a very fluent conversation. When they arrive and Father Way parks the car on his driveway, they remain inside, listening to the CD on repeat and talking some more. It relaxes Frank more than he thought possible.

He finds himself learning about Father Way's own experience with bands, before and while he was in college, but how they never worked out because they were missing something. Frank understands that, actually, having been in a couple of bands before, in between his school friends. He can see a difference now, between kids playing together for the fun of it and senior guys playing seriously, really trying to make it. This band that he's in now, they've been together for almost three years and they're shooting for the stars.

When the conversation dies out at last and the CD restarts, Father Way suggests they get out of the car and inside the house, so that Frank can get some work done. The priest makes some sort of comment about what Frank said about having been in bands before, and Frank tells him about his father's connection to music, and his father before him, and how they influenced Frank from early age. They chat away about more music and what Frank knows about the business until they get inside and reach the library.

In there, they simply get to work like they had last time. Frank sits down at the desk and grabs his backpack, to retrieve the books and his notebook. He watches as Father Way puts the book he got from the church on the desk but goes to put his own book on the right shelf, and then comes back to stand by the desk. It's strictly in a professional manner, of course, the way Frank smiles at him and opens his notebook to show Father Way his notes on what he read during the past few days. He's got four pages filled with his own writing and they analyze them together and for once, Frank is actually comfortable with the priest.

The worst part comes when Father Way moves to stand behind the chair Frank is sitting on and leans forward, to read over Frank's shoulder. His face is right there, uncomfortably close that Frank can see the imperfections on his skin, and the curve of his jaw, and his lips moving when he speaks. Being a hormone driven teenager and all, Frank really can't be blamed for his reaction. He can't avoid getting all hot under his school uniform or the blush creeping onto his cheeks, because he's like that, obvious and easy to please. He tries to breathe easily.

"Are you alright?" Father Way asks, sounding truly concerned. He's staring at Frank with intense eyes, brown, deep and fucking gorgeous, or maybe that's because he's standing so close and Frank can see them so well. He gulps and breathes in and out, in a steady rhythm so as not to lose his focus.

"You're starting to look a little flushed, Frank. Are you feeling ill or something?" the priest continues, sounding worried. It's a fact that the weather has been really hot since the weekend and Frank tends to get sick with the sudden changes. That is not what's happening this time, but Father Way doesn't need to know about _that_ for now.

Frank says, "It might be, I don't know. It could be allergies." He stares some more at Father Way, because he's close like he's inspecting Frank's health state, but Frank's eyes keep shifting between Father Way's eyes, mouth and jawline. Everything gets worse with that, of course.

The next time Frank looks up at his eyes, though, Father Way widens them too much and straightens back up. "I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't mean—" He pauses briefly, still gazing down at Frank.

Then he continues, "You don't have to be embarrassed about what you told me. I should be sitting down, anyway. I'm sorry I was… all over you." He's gesturing a lot with one hand and smiling apologetically. Frank sighs and Father Way's smile changes.

Frank recognizes it again, from several different situations, and gulps down all the images that suddenly threaten to resurface. He can't let them invade his mind, though. He doesn't need to feel any stranger or to blush even more, due to dream images of Father Way. He has to stop thinking about this because their relationship is sanctioned by the Church and it can't break any boundaries. It's enough that Frank has already broken them all in his head.

He looks back down at his notes and the movement triggers Father Way into getting the second chair and sitting down beside Frank, as they finish discussing the notes Frank jotted down for his essay. Afterwards, Father Way clears his throat and looks down at his hands, and asks, "Do you have any idea what you want to read next?"

Frank can understand why he's acting so shy himself, but the fact that Father Way feels troubled by the previous closeness too worries him a little. He considers the question and divides his attention between Father Way's face and the top shelf on that bookcase in front of him. Frank asks himself if there is a smooth way to approach the subject.

He gets up and pretends to browse through the titles, trying to get an idea of how to get down to talk about these books he knows of. He says, "I was thinking maybe I could take a look at those books that bring up the Bible passages and analyze them, but like the biggest passages? Or like, those stories of a relationship, like…"

Hesitating, Frank looks back at Father Way, who is still sitting down on the chair, although he looks a little panicked that Frank is approaching the bookcase by himself. It's like he fears that Frank will knock a few more books down and find his secret stash. Then, with a deep breath, Frank points to the book title about the books of Samuel on the very top shelf and finishes, "Like David and Jonathan's?"

The only sound he can hear is his own heart beating fast, a crazy rhythm inside his ears. Frank knows why he feels like this, as he lowers his arm, but he can't control it. His mind is quiet, but his anxiety levels are peaking. Then there's a sigh coming from behind him and, when he turns around to look, Father Way is looking down, deep in thought. Frank waits for a reply, of course; he wants to see what the priest will say to him about the book up there. It has to be a complicated issue, because it's porn we're talking about, so Frank is anxiously waiting for a reaction.

It comes when Father Way looks up all of a sudden, his whole face illuminated with what seems to be a brilliant idea. Father Way gets up and walks closer to Frank, making a turn at the last minute in the direction of the boxes he told Frank about on the very first day. It's the boxes of books Father Way is going to send to his mother's house. He crouches down and opens one and another, obviously looking for something.

"I think I have it somewhere around here…" he's saying, almost mumbling, but Frank can make out most of the words. Frank can't decide in between arching his eyebrows or frowning, because Father Way looks so strange right now, crouching down like that and rummaging through those boxes almost in a frenzy. It's so weird, so much so that Frank practically forgets about what he intended to do with this.

"What's going on?" he asks absentmindedly, taking a swift gaze up at the book he meant to get in his hands right now, but soon returning to look at Father Way. He's standing up by now, holding a book and grinning down at it.

He hands it to Frank. It has the same title on the cover, about analyzing the books of Samuel regarding the relationship between David and Jonathan. Frank wants to convince Father Way that he knows nothing about the contents behind that same cover that lies on the top shelf, so he frowns at the book the priest just handed to him and asks, "Why do you have two copies of the same book?"

Suddenly, there goes Frank's heart beating fast again and now there is also a nervous sweat collecting at the back of Frank's neck, because he _wants_ to tell Father Way the truth about what he knows, but he just doesn't have the nerve to do it. He shakes himself out of his momentary stupor and listens to Father Way, as he replies,

"They're different editions, that's all. And since I'm already sending this one away to my mother, I will still have the one in the bookcase for myself."

Frank hums in agreement, even though he considers Father Way's response as another ridiculous excuse to protect his erotic possessions. Still, Frank just lets it pass and smiles at the priest, because he hasn’t worked up the guts to say anything about it. If he is ever going to gather the courage to ask Father Way about the porn.

**

Wednesday is no better.

It starts out with the hottest dream he's had so far, so different from the usual hot kisses, handjobs and blowjobs. This time, Dream Guy was blowing Frank as he lay on his single bed and, at the same time, he was fingering Frank's ass. Never before had Frank had anything up his ass, but he's heard that it's pleasurable. In real life, he might be worried about the pain, but this dream makes all those fears disappear and Frank feels actually a lot of pleasure from the fingering.

The down part, of course, is the urgent need to jerk off in his morning shower. He tries to let his cock go down by itself, seriously wishing that it would, but of course it doesn't obey him. Ever since Sunday, when his mother walked in on him again, she has been filling his head with ideas that masturbating is morally wrong and a direct disobedience to God's laws of chastity. And if it's morally wrong, it's a sin and, although Frank has never seen anything sinful about doing it, he can't deny that he's starting to doubt his own mind. He has been raised Catholic after all. Suddenly, he's divided again, between the Catholic sense of right and his teenage sense of need. Maybe he'll talk it out with Father Way.

Then in school, in his homeroom class, they are asked about the essays and Frank has to tell his teacher where he's getting his information from and he obviously talks about Father Way and his precious help. Still, when he has shut up and Sister Janette moves on to the next student, Frank can't help but remember Father Way's books. It's the worst place to be in right now and Frank is hard before the class even ends. He feels the heat on his cheeks and, whilst his classmates kind of laugh at him, Sister Janette seems very worried and sends him to the nurse's office.

In there, Frank does admit that he feels a little sick and, a few minutes later, he throws up into the toilet and lies on the stretcher for a good half hour. He misses his next class entirely and Lukas and Jonas come pick him up on the next break. Frank is still feeling light-headed, though, so maybe he is getting sick and not just flustered from the hard-on.

That night, nothing gets better, of course. Frank has that last dream all over again, the blowjob and the harsh laps of Dream Guy's tongue on his cock, Dream Guy's palm on his balls, Dream Guy's fingers in his ass. This is too much for one guy alone. Frank moans out and trashes about in his bed, and the idea of sin comes back to him. He can't help these doubts, but he wants to work on them soon.

Thursday morning, Frank wakes up and he's sweating and shaking all over. He's hard too, and it hurts as a living hell, but he refuses to jerk off. His morning shower consists of Frank talking himself down about all the issues he's dealt with after these dreams and especially about this new belief in sin. He's a teenager, so he should be able to feel and think like one, and jerking off has never been a sin to him. In the end, as the hot water rinses his body, he feels frustrated at his own stupid mind that seems to be giving in under his mother's devotion. He's not like that. He's his own spirit.

Then he turns the other tap on and stands there, not moving, under the cold stream of water until his frustration turns into cold shivers. He feels sick and tired of these dreams and wishes them away, as he wraps a towel around his middle. In his bedroom, he looks down at himself and feels ashamed for the first time in a long time. He's been ashamed of his body before, when he didn't know why he couldn't like girls and talk about them like his friends did, and when he didn't know that homosexuality was after all okay because God loved him the same. It's been years since those feelings faded away, but Frank knows why they're back. He wishes them away too and gets dressed in his school uniform, before it gets too late.

After that morning, he spends this Thursday pissed off at everything and everyone, snapping at his friends and even at his teachers. He just wants to get the fucking dreams and the things they imply out of his mind, just like all the memories from having read Father Way's erotica books. He isn't supposed to know about them, so why can't he just forget about them? Why did he have to snoop around, looking at things that are none of his business?

When the school day ends and he goes to church with his grandfather, Frank kneels down on the first pew, quietly. He empties his mind of everything and keeps looking down, with his hands intertwined under his forehead. He avoids everyone that passes by because he just wants to be alone with God today. He needs this.

Father Way comes after a long time and kneels beside Frank. He speaks, but Frank just listens. "Is everything alright, Frank? I can understand if you want to be alone, but you know you can talk to me about everything. We don't even have to get up."

Frank doesn't reply, at least not immediately. He reminds himself of the recent issues around masturbation being a sin after all, but he can't bring himself to talk about it just yet. Father Way remains kneeling down and crosses himself at some point, probably starting his own prayers. Frank lifts his head to him when his mind fills once more with the thoughts that have been provoking him all day, but he only asks one thing of Father Way: "I need to be alone, please."

The priest crosses himself again and gets up, leaning one last time toward Frank. He says, "You know I believe in the power of words. I'll be in the back room. Come see me when you're ready."

Frank doesn't say anything. He can't be anywhere near Father Way today; he can't bear the thought of proximity toward anyone that reminds him of how much of a sinner he might be after all.

Later, he takes it all out on his guitar, playing harder than ever during their band practice in his parents' garage. He's focusing on stopping his confused thoughts. He knows there isn't a way to control his dreams, but he's starting to feel like he should be strong enough to fight them and not let them bother him any longer. Still, he plays to keep those mental images at bay and to stop seeing himself as an unclean person.

He starts playing the first song he ever learned on guitar and his bandmates follow his lead, even though he has never been a leader. For the next hour or so, they only play their favorite songs, barely stopping to talk, and Frank is very glad about that. It's the best way for him to work his aggressions out on his own with his guitar. In the end, he gets really pissed off when seven PM comes and their band practice ends all of a sudden.

He snaps at his mother more than once later on, even before dinner is served, and then he snaps at his grandfather, during dinner, despite the old man's approval of Frank's actions in church today. Nobody understands that he's not feeling like himself today and Frank is ordered to stay downstairs, after the meal is over. His mother makes him wash the dishes and stands beside him, watching him closely. She says, "I think you need to chill out. If there's something bothering you at school, don't get it out on us."

"Go to your room," she orders, when it's done. Frank doesn't even react; he just obeys and goes upstairs. He takes a swift glance at the book on the desk, the one's he's supposed to read next for his essay, but he just wants to forget the annoyance he felt through the whole day. That's when his eyes flicker toward the bookcase and to his Bible. He thinks about reading his favorite Gospel, but he realizes it will only remind him of Father Way and decides against it. He can't deal with any more frustration, so he picks up his copy of _Brideshead Revisited._ It will keep his mind off everything for a while. He strips down to his underwear and lies in bed, sitting up against the headboard, comfortable under the bedding.

However, he can't focus on what's he's reading, but it's really quite obvious why that is. Frank closes the books and fingers at the title. At the same time, he takes a look at the book on this desk and realizes that there is another cover like it sitting in Father Way's top shelf, hiding a very different book inside. Instead of getting worked up about it, he tries to come up with a plan to tell Father Way that he knows about the porn and that it's bothering Frank, because he's dreamed of Father Way and thought of Father Way while masturbating and all the tension it's creating is getting him frustrated because he's a teenager and his hormones are all over the map.

He needs to get this out; otherwise, none of it will get any better.

**

So Friday finally comes and Frank is going to Father Way's house after school. On the drive there, Father Way tries to engage Frank in a conversation, but he remains absolutely quiet, staring out the window. He only speaks when Father Way asks if he's alright, and he lies, "I think I might be getting sick, but don't worry. I've just had… a couple of harsh days."

"Nothing about the essay, I hope?"

"No. The essay is going fine." Frank grows quiet again, looking straight ahead this time. Even when they get to the house and Father Way stops the car in the driveway, and even when they get inside and walk to the library. Frank keeps to himself and out of Father Way's way.

He sits down immediately, with a heavy sigh, and gets his backpack, but Father Way sits sideways on a corner of the desk. He puts a hand over Frank's, over the zipper of his bag, staying quiet for a while. When Frank looks up, wanting to ask what he wants, Father Way asks, almost sweetly, "What's wrong, Frank? You're not yourself today, or even yesterday in church. You're clearly annoyed at something, or at least keeping something inside, and you should let it out. Is there something wrong at home, or—"

"It's nothing," Frank lies again. He shrugs his shoulders in a vague gesture and opens his backpack, despite Father Way's hand over his. The priest pulls back at last and sighs as Frank takes his notebook and pens, and asks, "Could I just — I'd like to just focus on my work today, if that's alright with you?

"Of course," Father Way replies, nodding. He sets his briefcase on the couch and gets a book from inside it. The cover says something about Saul of Tarsus, and Frank refrains from wondering if it's porn or not. He looks at the top shelf and sighs, trying to focus in closing his eyes and thinking of his essay. He doesn't need any more of this tension. He has already had an awful week and needs to calm the fuck down and stick to his plan.

He thought of finishing reading this book and asking for a new one, but use that excuse to approach the issue of the erotica books with Father Way. Today, Frank thinks he can do it, because he's been so frustrated about keeping this to himself and has gotten unusually moody because of it. He also knows that, if he doesn't do it today, he never will.

After a while, the constant sounds of Father Way shifting on the couch are really distracting Frank, just like the light coughing, and Father Way clearing his throat or turning the pages. It's like he's trying to get Frank's attention, but it turns out to be very annoying to the point where Frank sits up straight on the chair and closes his book, sounding horribly loud in the library. He turns around to find Father Way closing his own book and looking up.

"You need something?" Father Way asks, with an expectant look.

Frank stays silent only for a little while, before he decides to be brave and just face it, admit this whole thing that has been making everything so fucking weird for Frank and tense between them. He starts by saying, "I need you to tell me the truth."

Father Way frowns. Looking at him and not finding enough confidence in the priest's gaze, Frank takes a deep breath and focus. "Why are you so protective of your books on that top shelf?" he asks, nonchalantly. He can't stop this now, or divert his question.

"I treat all my books just the same, so I'm not sure I understand what you mean. Even so, these books are old and I've gained much interest in most of them over the years," Father Way replies in his oblivious tone of voice, telling Frank something he doesn't want to hear.

"You don't understand?" Frank repeats, making Father Way shake his head no. Frank repeats the gesture, thinking of his plan and what he wants to say. "Well, let me just… lay it out for you. The other day, when I fell off the chair, I had just read from one of those books up there on the top shelf. I know what you hide behind those fake covers."

Even from this distance, Frank can see Father Way gulping slowly as he clasps his hands over his lap. He inhales and smiles, asking, "You have no idea about those books, Frank. You're just bluffing."

Frank nods his head in an empty gesture, because Father Way refuses to believe him. Frank will have to prove it to him and what better way than using the rawest words? "It's porn."

A look of astonishment appears on Father Way's face and he lifts his left hand to scratch at his brow, looking down at his lap. He looks extremely uncomfortable, and Frank walks closer to him to press at his buttons and compel Father Way to admit his secret.

"Frank, you don't—" Father Way stutters, scratching at the side of his head again. Frank can see that he is scratching so hard that there are red lines across the base of his hairline, from his temple to the corner of his eye. The priest seems to be way too distressed about the situation to even notice this. Father Way's other hand, still over his lap, keeps trembling with something that Frank hopes is anxiety. He wants Father Way to feel that because the same thing has been burning under Frank's skin for a while now.

"You don't know… ah, what you're talking about," he keeps stuttering, never looking at Frank. He seems so nervous that it's almost hilarious. Frank has apparently pushed at the right buttons.

When Father Way finally looks up, his eyes are flooded with a look of apprehension. Frank manages to hold a grin in, in order to not appear too rude or defiant. God knows where he has found the courage to finally face this issue with Father Way. Frank respects him a lot, but he couldn't live with this secret anymore. This is the only way to stop the awkwardness and the haunting images in Frank's life and dreams.

"Those books you claim you have read," Father Way adds, gulping. His Adam's apple stutters up and down his throat; Frank sees it clearly and cannot turn his eyes away from it. He feels quite proud of himself for having made Father Way so nervous about his own secret. The priest concludes, "They're not exactly _mine."_

Frank scoffs, finally letting a grin out. He had kind of expected this. It's a very common lie. He's a teenager; he knows, so he says, "Don't lie to me. I saw the little _GW_ scribbled on the title page, in the top right corner. And that Friday, I looked through a few comic books and found a _MW_ in some of them, on the exact same location, so it can't be a coincidence. One of you is _MW,_ the other is _GW,_ and you called your brother, Mikey. Don't bother trying to tell me those are not your books."

"But they're not!" Father Way defends himself, getting up and throwing his hands all over Frank's personal space. The priest weaves his right hand through his hair, pulling it to the side, and then scratches at the side of his face yet again. He says, "Not all—"

But Frank interrupts him. "Stop it." He turns his back on Father Way and gets the chair he was sitting on previously, taking it to the bookcase and standing on it. He chooses one of the books he picked up last week and reads the title on the cover out loud, showing it off towards Father Way so he can see it himself.

Frank comes down carefully, to keep himself from falling again, and approaches Father Way as he opens the book to the title page, shoving it in the priest's face. He closes his eyes, blushing in a nice shade of red on both cheeks. Frank requests of him, "Read that title for me."

Father Way doesn't. He shakes his head no and looks away, down at the floor and wherever else. Frank shoves the book in his face again, almost hitting him with it this time, but he doesn't take it back. "Why won't you?" Frank insists, closing the book stridently. It echoes around the room. "Do you have any idea what these books have done to me? I went through a personal hell because of them, because of what I read last Friday. It was fucking awful, so do something decent for yourself and admit it. They're yours!"

"Frank, there's—" Father Way is still stuttering, swallowing silently and looking at Frank, at last. It doesn't last long, because he keeps diverting his gaze away from Frank while Frank is trying to face him honestly and come to terms with the anxiety he's experienced this week. "There's more to these books than you think. Stop being insolent, and listen to me, because I'm trying to tell you the truth, but it's hard."

"Why?" Frank questions him, but he can imagine that Father Way is very embarrassed to having been discovered, by a teenager of all people. A teenager who has been affected deeply by these books and who has gone through very difficult dreams, making him think about God and sin and chastity. "Why do you even own porn? If I'm supposed to be chaste, I can only imagine what your handbook tells you to avoid."

Father Way looks up at Frank again, staring at him and holding the gaze this time. "It's complicated. If this gets out, I'd be thrown out of the Church in shame, because you know what they think of the priests who support homosexuality. And well, I own it because God decided to plague me with urges a couple of years back. You have no idea what these books have done _to me,_ Frank."

Frank blinks at him, shocked, deflating in his defiant mood. He hadn't thought about that, the things that led Father Way to buy these books and challenge his own chastity, so maybe he was a little too harsh on Father Way. "I'm sorry," he says, holding the priest's gaze in a smoother tone. "I thought only of myself."

"You do have the right to freak out about this, even though you looked through my things without permission. I can forgive you for that, absolutely, but I don't think I can explain this to you. There are a lot of things that I can't tell you right now, because they deal with very personal matters, and only God and my brother know about them." Father Way takes the book out of Frank's hands and turns around, to sit back down on the couch. He tucks his right foot beneath his left thigh, making it look comfortable.

Frank nods and sits down on the armrest, feeling much calmer now. Knowing that there are issues he can't know about make him much more curious, but he's not going to pry any further. Frank has no right, as Father Way had already pointed out. "You don't have to explain, I'm sorry. You can own whatever books you want, it's not my place to question you or judge you. I just thought—"

He looks down at the book, because Father Way is leafing through it casually. He's not even looking at the pages, he's looking at Frank, but the fact that he is doing that makes Frank feel hot under his clothes all over again. He can't take this. He slides one hand beneath the collar of his uniform shirt, feeling the sweat pooling on the base of his neck. Not again, he thinks, but he can't help it either. Knowing what is in those books and that Father Way owns them and reads them and does God knows what with them, it gets Frank anxious and hot and stupidly mental all over again. It's unbearable now, because Father Way is right here, watching him.

He decides to continue, of course. "I didn't know what to do with the fact that I know of their existence, because you're a priest and you're committed to God and vowed to a lot of things. But then you're so open-minded about some things, that it's scary. I can't get used to it! Every priest I've known so far is old and fat and has grey hair. You're nothing like that, but you're still a _priest_ and—"

"Frank, calm down," Father Way demands, closing the book and bringing a hand to touch Frank's. "I'm a priest, not a fucking saint. And even those were humble men once, you know. They walked quite a long path before they were—"

"Nevermind," he finishes, looking down at his hands, holding the book, closed, on his leg.

"You can keep going," says Frank, honestly. He likes listening to Father Way. He has always liked listening to people who talk about things that matter, or things Frank wants to know about, or things that simply get interesting because of the way people talk about them. And listening to Father Way has been so amazing throughout the last years that Frank can never get tired of the priest's knowledge and common sense.

"No, it would be off topic," Father Way says, looking up again. Now that he's facing Frank again, the teenager can see how his face went from apprehensive to calm, but then it goes back to a state of self-consciousness that Frank already knows is part of Father Way. He asks, "Do you want to ask me any questions about these?"

Frank breathes slowly after that question. He can speak only the truth, now that the worst part is over. "Yes, I want to ask you a lot of questions, but I won't. You were right when you said I don't have a right to question you. I don't have a right to meddle with your personal life."

"Well, you did invade it last week, so it seems," Father Way utters, sounding quite stern. Yet when Frank looks at him, he is scratching the side of his face again, but there is a smile plastered to his face. A smile that Frank recognizes well; he recognizes it as a witty grin, so he slides down from the armrest to sit on the cushion and his knees almost hit Father Way's leg.

The priest is saying, "Look, Frank, you will realize soon that I've been through some difficult times recently. These books are partially involved in the reason why I've been having conflicts with myself, but they started as my release, mentally and physically speaking."

"So you jerk off to them, is that it?" Frank asks, boldly, with a smile.

Father Way snorts lightly. "Yeah," he says, in an equally light tone, but then he widens his eyes at Frank and hurries to correct his answer. "No! Not _to them!_ I mean, I might have read them in the past, if I was really desperate, but I passed them on to a different purpose now. They're fulfilling someone else's fantasies."

Frank looks at him, arching his eyebrows because he didn't expect this kind of honesty. One thing is imagining that Father Way actually reads the books, and another thing is hearing him say that he does. It takes the mental images to a whole new level and that is fucking sick. "Because we're all physical creatures, right?"

"Of course, and I may have these books in my house, but don't think I use them a lot." Father Way says this almost as a joke, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at Frank, but of course there is only one type of image in Frank's head. Thinking of Father Way resorting to erotica books to get off is bad enough, but Frank will try not to think about it. He'll try his hardest, he promises himself.

When his gaze turns down a little and he sees the collar on Father Way's neck, Frank remembers, "But aren't you, like… celibate?"

Father Way nods, and he inhales deeply before replying. "Ah, the vow of celibacy doesn't involve a no-orgasms policy, Frank. We do vow to refrain from the temptation sex can be, but every person finds it difficult to avoid certain physical needs. Certainly, masturbation has been pointed out as a grave disorder because it frustrates the natural order, purpose and ends of sexuality, because God ordered Adam and Eve to be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the Earth, but some people have taken it to a completely exaggerated level."

"Explain this to me," Frank requests, completely intrigued by this opinion. He is a deep believer, having been raised Catholic, and he certainly doesn't want to bury himself in sin. "Because my mother has said that masturbation is a sin. I wouldn't have told you about jerking off, last Sunday, if she hadn't demanded me to do so."

Father Way nods and clears his throat, moving on the couch to sit properly, placing both feet on the ground now. He starts talking, in a serene tone of voice that always engrosses Frank in his words. "Well, masturbation has been pointed out as a severe disorder. You see, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, back in 1975, wrote a declaration concerning sexual ethics and it states that masturbation contradicts the finality of the faculty, but some people have taken it to an exaggerated level."

Frank hums, telling Father Way he understands and that he's ready for more. Father Way nods and continues. "It's also a fact that the Catechism clearly states that a person commits a mortal sin when he consciously and freely chooses to do something that has been seriously disordered by the Holy See, or by contradicting God's direct orders. And well, masturbation has fallen in the same disordered bag as any homosexual acts, sex before or outside of marriage, among other things."

"Then, we've got the old Doctors of the Church, who have stated against masturbation because the seed is not to be wasted in vain, and that it's a matter of pure lust. St. Thomas de Aquino has even compared it to bestiality and related it to the sin of uncleanness. And well, back in his days, 'uncleanness' was basically a synonym for _mollitiem._ That's Latin for… unmanliness."

Frank widens his eyes, leaning forward to cause effect. "So basically, you're not manly enough if you jerk off? What kind of shitty statement is that?"

"It was the old Church, Frank. Aquino was one of the strictest theologians you can possibly imagine and well, he did live in the thirteen century when everything related to sex was pretty much taboo and forbidden, mostly related to the huge mortality rate." Father Way says this with a roll of his eyes, like it's the most obvious thing and Frank should have known it already. But it doesn't matter when he keeps talking. "And did you know that in the Middle Age, there was the conviction that jerking off led to health issues such as TB, loss of vision and even madness?!"

"Not really, I mean masturbation isn't really an issue I discuss with my family, nor do they discuss it with me," Frank says, trying to sound witty. He can't really imagine what kind of things he'd hear from his mother or grandfather if they ever talked about jerking off.

Father Way shakes his head, pressing his lips together in assertion. "Obviously, those medical opinions have been rejected and scientifically proved wrong. Today, you'll find a lot of theologians that have agreed that masturbating is not a mortal sin. There is the point that it fails to integrate sexuality into the service of love and that it indulges the person in solitary pleasure, like self-absorption, but at the same time there is not a mention to proper masturbation in the Bible. It only speaks of impurity and unchastity, but the Vatican people link the two in their short sense of morality."

"So long story short, the traditional views on sexuality equate sex with having children, while nowadays a new theory has risen, linking any sexual acts to the release of sexual tension in an individual and bringing two partners further together. That's why the progressive thinkers have concluded that masturbation is not a mortal sin, although it cannot turn into an addiction or become a substitute of a proper relationship. People need to be connected to others, so that's why even the progressive Church frowns upon masturbating, but don't think they give it that much importance. I've learned from several Church servers, even bishops and cardinals, that masturbation is... morally neutral."

"What does that mean?"

Father Way shifts on his seat. "The moral sense in masturbation is not in doing it, but in abusing of your power over your body. And like, the Catechism says 'the repetition of a sin engenders vices, among which are the capital sins'. So masturbating is alright, as long as you do it wisely."

Frank lost himself in this long exposition. Although he caught everything that was said, he has to force himself to stop imagining things happening on this same couch, like Father Way jerking off with his clothes on after a month of no touching, or Father Way jerking _Frank_ off after a stressful week at school. Frank cannot give in to these thoughts, but he does and of course when he comes back to reality and sees Father Way, he blushes hard. Frank is also thinking of something a little different, something broader than masturbation; he's thinking about another characteristic he has associated with Father Way for four years now. He's thinking about homosexuality and how it's been gravely disordered as well.

He looks down and, after a long pause, he says, "Can I ask you something personal?"

Father Way nods, curiously staring directly at Frank.

"How do you feel as a priest today?" Father Way frowns at his question, though, and Frank does the same, because maybe he needs to think this through and rephrase his question. He tries again. "How do you fit in, working for an institution that thinks so differently from you? I mean, hasn't the Church stated that homosexuality is a sin and that gay men can't be ordained?"

"Ah, yes, that is a good question," Father Way replies, humming in contemplation. He moves on the couch again, crossing his legs at his knees and leaning back until his back hits the corner of the couch where the backboard meets the armrest. He turns to Frank and starts speaking immediately.

"Years ago, men with homosexual thoughts or urges were easily accepted in the seminary. Homosexuality has always been a sin to the Holy See, but back in those days it was mainly related to a homosexual conduct, I mean, if a person had sexual contact with someone of the same gender. If a student's case was considered 'dangerous' and in risk of those urges becoming actions, the seminary provided private sessions with a Christian counselor. It was basically a conservative therapist insisting in taking the student off of that path, because it was believed that those tendencies could be controlled and eradicated through spiritual growth."

"So touching was sinful, but thinking of men was alright?" Frank wants to know, to clarify this issue. There are so many theories about homosexuality that he's finding this a little confusing, but hopefully Father Way will help him understand.

"Pretty much," he replies, with a witty smile. Frank just nods, waiting for Father Way to continue. "Only a few years ago, less than a decade even, the policies in the seminaries started to change. In 2005, the Congregation for Catholic Education set new lines for this matter, affirming that, and I quote, «the Church cannot admit to the seminary or to holy orders those who practice homosexuality, present deep-seated homosexual tendencies or support the so-called 'gay culture'»."

"Therefore, any homosexual urges were forbidden to a student, taught to them as a mortal sin, but it all made some seminarians very concerned about their souls. I believe some of them even stopped looking down at their dicks, in disgust. The seminaries started screening the students every year, much more thoroughly, especially insisting in homosexuality. The simple life at the seminaries took a different path, and a lot of students started giving up because the Church didn't appease their fears."

Father Way's long exposition left Frank himself breathless. It's incredible how much things can change in a matter of few years. Frank does the math pretty quickly and comes to the conclusion that Father Way was ordained a short time before this new policy was decided and published by the Vatican. He shares this with Father Way, who simply nods.

"I wouldn't have been ordained myself. I never lied to my tutors at the seminary that I have homosexual tendencies, I could not lie to them obviously, but I did promise I would battle against them. I have been struggling with the issue all these years and, needless to say, some days are harder than others," Father Way complements his reply, staring straight into Frank's eyes.

Frank can't quite understand what he means by this exactly, but he can see that it's been problematic for Father Way to deal with his homosexuality within the Church. They've talked about it before, but Frank had never known the precise view of the Church regarding homosexuality. He knew it was forbidden and considered a sin, but not to this extent. It feels pretty overwhelming, actually.

"How have you been fighting it?" Frank asks thoughtlessly, not really seeing how deep and personal his question actually is. He looks up at Father Way and sees his discomfort, though, so he takes it back. "You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry. I didn't— I wasn't thinking."

Father Way nods solemnly, never taking his eyes away from Frank. The teenager can't be sure what the priest is looking at, but it's making him a little uncomfortable. It makes him remember the way he thought about Father Way when he was jerking off that morning and how fucked up that really is.

He looks away and focuses on something else, a question he hasn't thought about before but that seems quite fitting after what he just heard. "Are there a lot of gay men joining the seminary?"

"More than you can imagine," Father Way responds, with wide eyes.

"Even if it's against the Church's policies?"

Father Way nods again, clearing his throat. He says, "Yes, but most of them become seminarians for the wrong reasons. They take refuge in the seminary, because the homosexual relationships they look for in order to fit in the society are strongly frowned upon by the society itself. And you see, friendships with women are discouraged for seminarians and priests, often leading to scandals in their community, but if they associate with men, that's completely acceptable. Nobody even questions their intentions."

"That is so fucked up..." Frank comments on what he just heard, shaking his head at how stupid this whole thing sounds. He can almost guarantee that these men embrace the priesthood because it's easier than coming out.

"Yes, and because it's easier to have their intimacy needs met," Father Way develops the question, after Frank shares his thoughts with the priest. "I mean, the Church denies the fact that men with homosexual tendencies affirm their ministry and become in fact, priests. And this only triggers the discussion about homosexuality among people, contributing to the growth of homophobia."

"Have you ever met these seminarians?" Frank asks, curiously. "I realize you were one of them, but in your time the Church allowed homosexual tendencies and tried to eradicate them through therapy, while now they're completely forbidden and most likely punished with excommunication."

"The Church saves excommunication for more serious and urgent matters actually, but you're right. The bishops are forced to defrock a priest or expel a seminarian if they engage in any homosexual conducts, because it is seriously frowned upon at the moment," Father Way explains, only making Frank even angrier at the Church for its lack of compassion based on medieval views on sexuality.

Father Way smiles at him, comfortingly, kind of like he's reading Frank's mind through his facial expression. And he says, "You have every right to feel like this, Frank. Being gay isn't easy for anyone in today's society, let alone in a Catholic environment, so they hide it, deny it even to themselves, and it's easier to do that within a community where there's faith, forgiveness and most importantly, peace of mind."

"I didn't have much peace of mind until I came out, despite all the fingers people point at me now that I've admitted who I really am," Frank says, assertively, criticizing those who had looked at him sideways and pointed fingers at him just because he dared to admit that he's gay. "But I'm trying to find it, that's for damn sure. Now, where can I find all this information you just told me about? Because I could seriously use it for the essay."

Father Way grins at Frank and he looks honestly pleased. "Well, there are online sources you can use, but they're mainly personal blogs and websites. I know a couple of them maintained by former priests of the Catholic Church, but there are others by former Anglican and Methodist clerics. Not all of them were laicized for issues with homosexuality, but you can compare their reasons and connect it all to the way the Church sees it. It's totally doable."

"You're a genius," Frank says, laughing out loud. He's satisfied, truly happy, that this honest conversation came through so many questions and ideas. It's been very clear and of course, Frank loved it.

He sighs contentedly, before they get up from the couch to go downstairs where there's a computer so they can check out those websites together.

**

Afterward, when it's time to go home, Frank is feeling even more confident about his essay than before. It's like a weight has been taken off his shoulders, because he told Father Way what he knew about the porn books. They're back at the library to get Frank's backpack and, before they leave, he promises Father Way that he won't tell a thing to anyone.

When Father Way thanks him, Frank says, "I know I can't tell anyone, because it can get you in trouble."

Father Way nods, assertively, his eyes grateful. "Telling anyone would be an absolute catastrophe. If people knew about my books, it wouldn't be just light gossip. It would turn into a full-blown scandal."

"Why in a scandal?" Frank asks with wide eyes.

"Frank," Father Way says, assertively, demanding Frank's full attention by grabbing his shoulders and locking their gazes. "You're right, I'm a priest and I own gay porn. Those two don't combine, and you know that. I could be defrocked and fall in shame in our community, because when a priest leaves the priesthood for whatever reason they walk out in shame. He becomes a… ah, a pariah, and the Holy See tries to convince the faithful that this man is no longer worth it. He can never go back to live in the same town and he will most likely never have a job again, because that's how the Catholic societies work. A priest should always be a priest."

Frank blinks at him, trying to assimilate that information. Father Way lets go of his shoulders and sighs. Then he says, "And then if a simple rumor starts going around town, involving you coming over and me owning these books, people will start talking. And what may seem so obvious and simple to us right now could easily come out as a lie. Even the kindest community can be very accusing when they feel threatened, and a priest who gets involved in a scandal quickly becomes _persona non grata."_

"Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone. Are we ready to go?" Frank asks, looking down at his backpack. He's putting a new book in it, and then his notebook with several online sources to check out.

"Yes," Father Way says. Frank takes a sudden peek at the couch, and sees the priest picking up his jacket.

"I dunno why I've never told you this, but it's unusual to see a priest in a leather jacket," Frank admits funnily, grinning down at his backpack. He zips it up and hears a poised laugh in response at what he said. And he's comfortable and so confident right now, and when he's like that he gets debauched, so he blurts out, "But it's a nice look on you."

When he looks up again, sliding his bag over his shoulder, Father Way is much closer than Frank had anticipated. He practically knocks over Father Way, so he squeaks and takes a step back. The priest is wide-eyed, staring at Frank, most likely because of what Frank just admitted, but they're so close that there is a sudden image in Frank's brain.

It's like déjà vu, but from one of his dreams. Frank keeps staring at Father Way, who keeps staring back with blown irises, and it makes Frank gasp. It's from the immediate images and from the previous conversation, but Frank feels it for real this time. He really is attracted to this man. Not to Father Way, but to the man behind the collar, the gay man that has an opinion on everything, and reads gay porn almost shamelessly, and teaches Frank all the things about the Church, and ultimately has a pretty face.

This realization — this attraction makes Frank burn in a deeper way, all of a sudden. He can't deny that. And this déjà vu Frank just had, it's totally about this room they're in, and about the couch behind Father Way, and about this same man that never showed his face above that same collar. This realization is absolutely disturbing, but it's very real. Frank tries to shake it off, but it won't go away. He knows it won't. It sticks to him, lathers his skin, stays buried deep beneath his flesh.

Blinking, Frank sees how close Father Way really is. "Are you alright?" he asks, sounding concerned and feeling rather sincere when he palms Frank's elbow and leans in. "Frank, are you? Because you look a bit flushed again."

Frank rubs at his face with one hand, covering it slightly while nodding. "Let's go," he says, a little shakily. He's not alright, though, and it shows when he tries to move. He feels light-headed and stumbles over his own feet. Father Way grabs his arm and supports his weight, but it only triggers another image in Frank's head.

"Sit down for a while," Father Way says, consoling. Frank can't react in any way. He just looks back and sits on the chair. He can't take this any longer. He's dizzy and hot all over his face, the heat scorching down his neck too and it's getting more difficult when he tries to breathe.

"Thank you," he whispers as best as he can, because he can't really say anything else. And his voice does manage to come out, although faintly.

"You want some water or something?" Frank accepts it the moment his brain processes the information. He's still light-headed, but he's no longer hyperventilating. He nods and closes his eyes after Father Way leaves the room.

Frank realizes that he can use this time without Father Way in the room to regain his composure and gather his thoughts correctly. The previous mental images remind Frank that there is still a pending subject concerning Father Way, but he isn't sure if he can take that much today. He already told Father Way about having read the books. It would be too much. Frank sighs deeply.

Father Way returns shortly after, with a glass of water in his hand. He gazes at Frank worriedly, questioning, and Frank nods at him with a faint smile. He feels a little better, but it's also a lie. Frank feels very much the same, with the thought of telling him what he's done the other morning with Father Way in his mind. Frank can only stop thinking about that by taking the tall glass of water and drinking it all in large gulps. At the same time, he takes swift glances at Father Way over the smooth cover of the glass and tries to organize his mind, convincing himself that he should tell him everything or face the consequences under every single touch from Father Way. And Frank is sure he can't live like this, getting sudden mental images and panic attacks from a single touch.

The water, though, feels fresh down his throat and it helps. That freshness reaches Frank's mind and, as he takes a breath in and hands the glass back to Father Way, he reaches a moment of clarity. He's going to do this.

"You feel better now?" Father Way asks him, first. Frank nods.

"Yes, thank you. Fresh water always helps me when I need to make a decision," he says, frowning at his own words. He doesn't know what he actually meant, but he has made a decision despite being so confused before. "And there's something else I want to tell you."

Father Way looks at him with a strange expression, his eyes narrowing and staring closely at Frank, as he speaks, "If it's about the books—"

"No," Frank interrupts him, shaking his head along his protest. "It might be related to having found them, but that's not the point. It's just that—"

Frank pauses because Father Way crouches down, staying there almost kneeling on the floor, while Frank is sitting on a chair. It makes it easier for Frank to look into his eyes, but it also isn't what Frank needs right now. Looking down at Father Way and seeing him like this triggers even more of the images and fantasies inside Frank's mind. He feels a shiver down his spine, spreading rapidly like acid corroding his whole body.

Father Way places one hand over Frank's knee. "Frank, you're worrying me," he says, squeezing the bone. That touch generates an electrifying current inside Frank and he can't control it anymore.

Frank blurts out, "My dreams have gotten more visual and the guy in them has a face now and it's—" He cuts himself off because he finds himself panicking again. He tries to breathe right, though, struggling with his lungs to get this thing off his chest and out of his head. Father Way is frowning at him, because apparently Frank can't get the words out, but then he exhales and it comes out. "It's you."

"What, how—" Father Way starts but interrupts himself immediately, getting up and stepping aside. Frank keeps looking down, though, now at the floor, waiting to start feeling better about it, just like he felt better when he admitted everything about the erotica books.

"How can it be me? You're out of your mind," Father Way says, assertively. Frank looks up at last and Father Way is standing a few feet away, his left hand on his hair, pulling it in random directions. It must be a thing he does when he's nervous or when he doesn't know what to say, because Frank remembers seeing him pulling on his hair when they talked earlier.

"I don't know, but it is you. I mean, it can only be you," Frank says, rubbing one hand over his face because Father Way looks slightly offended by what Frank just admitted.

"Alright, maybe your mind is just _really_ suggestive right now, since you did find my books," Father Way says, scratching at the side of his face. Again. Frank focuses back on what Father Way is saying, though. "I'm sure you're just freaking out about this and, now that you've told me, it'll get better."

Frank sighs, feeling calmer now. He closes his eyes, thinking to himself that if the wet dreams ended and he never had to deal with these issues ever again, he would be pretty happy and relieved. Still, he keeps talking about the dreams he _did_ have. "Well, I didn't really see a face, only the collar around your neck — I mean, _his_ neck, Dream Guy's neck."

"Is that what you call him, Dream Guy?" Father Way asks, interrupting him. Frank looks up at him with arched eyebrows, because that is a completely random question.

He still answers. "What else could I call him?" he says, shrugging. Staring closely at Father Way, Frank realizes that there is a reason why he dreamed about this man. And he has admitted it to himself today, a few moments earlier. He sighs upon that thought, letting it linger in his mind while he observes the priest. Father Way is looking down, both his hands buried in his hair now, looking quite thoughtful. Frank decides to get his attention. "Anyway, you're the only priest I know that could actually…"

"Ahhh, don't," Father Way looks up immediately, but he doesn't stare at Frank. He just… looks forward. "Don't think about that, please. You're simply mistaken," he continues, keeping his distance. He stops pulling at his hair and his hands fall limp down his sides. Right now, he is back to being the man Frank is attracted to.

"I just feel—" he starts, but Father Way moves forward at the same time. Frank waits for his next action, which turns out to be dropping his right hand on Frank's shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly.

"Forget it, Frank. I'm taking you home now and you'll try to forget about this, about me," he says, assertively, setting himself in front of Frank and looking for his eyes. Frank concedes. They stare at each other for some time, Father Way leaning in a little in order to look directly at Frank.

Frank doesn't feel any intimidated, though. If so, he feels confident for looking back at the man that has always made him feel comfortable. So Frank lets his mind loose and decides to act accordingly to his dreams' desires. First, Frank finds himself saying, "I feel so fucking—"

Then Father Way's mouth is exactly where it should be. Pressed against Frank's lips, as Frank kisses him.

It's slightly forced, of course, and really short. Father Way squeezes Frank's shoulder while his left hand grabs Frank's elbow, pushing Frank away. He looks a little panicked, terrified even and takes a step back, stuttering, "Don't do that again, Frank."

Frank nods. He's watching Father Way in his reaction, because he looks flustered and worried, but not embarrassed — or he's hiding it really well. Frank feels hot as well, a little light-headed again because this kiss has been in his dreams for a long time and he barely had time to taste it in real life.

They leave immediately, though. Father Way is the first to walk toward the library door and Frank follows him quietly. The drive to Frank's house is awkward, because Frank keeps looking at Father Way but he's looking straight ahead, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and shifting in his seat every other minute. They're both silent, because Father Way hasn't said anything else to Frank and the teenager doesn't dare to even try, so he keeps silent. Even the radio is off.

When Father Way stops the car, he takes the demo CD out of his player. Frank just watches, but he does it with wide eyes, not believing that the priest is returning this when he asked for it himself. Frank tries to protest, but Father Way is faster and says, "Take this with you, Frank. I can't keep it."

"Of course you can," Frank reacts at once, pushing the CD back into the priest's hands. "I made this copy for you."

"Thank you, but I insist. Let's keep this strictly professional. From now on, there are limits," Father Way speaks, in a louder voice. He seems pretty stern and persuasive, staring directly at Frank and his face is expressionless. Frank swallows hard, but nods, ready to listen to the rules Father Way is going to impose on their _professional_ relationship. "You can keep coming to my house, but we will stay in separate rooms while you work on your essay. I've only been in your way and that's never good."

Although Frank disagrees and opens his mouth to protest, Father Way lifts one hand and Frank stops. He nods, incredulous that the priest won't even let him protest or question his decision. It seems like there's no turning back now. This is the way it will be from now on and Frank can't do anything to stop Father Way from forcing his coldness upon their not quite friendship. He accepts it because, he has no choice. Father Way is a priest and Frank is just a kid. And the kid misbehaved, breaking Father Way's trust. Frank broke so many boundaries and now nothing will ever be the same again. They will always be awkward with each other after that reckless kiss.

Frank nods again, now blushing because he's very embarrassed himself. Suddenly, Father Way doesn't seem much confident now either, appearing to deflate slightly. He avoids Frank's gaze, as he says, "Good. I'll see you tomorrow at church, or Sunday."

"Sure. Bye," Frank replies, taking one last glance at Father Way's mouth. His lips are pressed together tightly, very strictly and almost screaming in unease. Frank can also see the protruding vein on Father Way's neck as the priest sits back on the seat and starts the car again. Frank opens the door at last and gets out.

He hears his mother calling them when he's closing the door with a loud bang, but the car starts moving before Father Way can hear or see her. Frank turns around to face her and she's frowning. "Is there anything wrong?"

"No," Frank says, without thinking, shrugging a little as well. "Father Way is just late for a meeting."

"Alright. Get inside and help me in the kitchen, yes, Frank?"

"Sure." He goes inside immediately, passing by his mother without a look at her face. He's afraid his own face will show more of his current state of mind than he wants her to see. Frank twitches his neck to both sides because he knows he will feel guilty and uncomfortable the whole evening. Thankfully he will be able to play it off at the studio with his band, after dinner.

**

Saturday morning finds Frank at church very early. He goes with his grandfather, but Frank really wants to be there today. He wants to sit alone and speak to his grandmother, ask her for her strength and her wisdom, but also to speak to God, asking for guidance and divine absolution.

Then, on Sunday, the whole family goes to mass and, as they sit in the back, Frank absorbs all these people in the church and their energy so he can sit still and feel calm. In the end, although he's distracted by Father Way's presence by the altar and once again enthralled by Father Way's sermon, Frank doesn't get so worked up today. He spent most of last night awake, trying to come to terms with his own anxiety and well, he feels a little better today.

It's weird to see Father Way in the vestry after the service is finished, but Frank and the rest of his family have to go there because his mother is involved in various community activities. Frank remains quiet the whole time and barely smiles back at Father Way, because it's weird to see him smiling after Friday. They were so tense when Frank got out of the car that it's very hard to pretend that everything is alright. Frank just wishes he could go home already, lock himself in his bedroom for a couple of hours and scream into his pillow.

**

The next two weeks are very… restrained.

At school, Frank can shut everything out and focus in class, because the year is ending and he doesn't even have to worry now. He already knows where he's going to college and what he'll be studying, so it's not like he needs to focus really hard to maintain his high grades.

With the band, Frank thinks only about music, letting it shut everything else out. He plays in a way he has never played before, trashing around in his garage at a high speed, just letting go of all of his aggressions and confusion.

At home, Frank spends much more time in his bedroom and doesn't talk about anything, because they always end up arguing. Frank is still frustrated and his mother won't understand that there are things he just can't tell her and that there are things a mother just shouldn't know about her son.

And of course, at night, Dream Guy continues to haunt him with his hot kisses, handjobs, blowjobs and fingering. Frank has one where he's tied up, but he hates it so much that he doesn't even wake up hard. And there's another one where Dream Guy has a big, blue dildo and Frank gets hugely turned on, but before Dream Guy can stick it anywhere, Frank wakes up hard, panting, feeling anxious about getting fucked.

There are also the days he goes to Father Way's house. For those two Tuesdays and two Fridays, Frank stays alone in the library, doing research and taking notes, and ignoring the top shelf that remains filled with books. As far as the car rides from the church and back home go, they don't speak to each other except the standard cordial greetings, which are very awkward. Frank remembers the great conversations they used to have, and how Father Way opened up to him in his always present honesty, and how Father Way had looked seriously worried about Frank's flush that day, but that's all gone now. The easy atmosphere, the conversations, the normalcy, it all vanished because Frank is a stupid teenager in heat that can't control his dreams and urges.

And well, at mass, it's almost routine for Frank. He fakes that he's paying attention and fakes a smile when they speak to the priests in the vestry. Only his prayers are true.

**

Once upon a Friday, there was a kiss that changed everything. By the third Friday after that mistake, Frank has gotten used to the silent room and is working on his essay nonstop. He's writing today, as he always writes by hand because then when he gets to type it all up, he can structure the sentences much better and revise the text if necessary. It's kind of working twice on it, but in the end it pays off, because his essays always end up practically flawless.

Frank is already eight pages down, everything he states is supported by the right source, which gives the essay some credibility and a great sense of organization. This makes Frank satisfied with his work and at least one thing is going well in his life, unaffected by his feelings. He finishes the introductory chapter today and sighs, looking up and around.

He's rarely nostalgic about being in here by himself, but today is one of those days. It's maybe because he knows he won't be able to spend the night at Lukas's since he has weekend plans with his parents, and because their band practice won't feel the same without their keyboardist.

Well, Frank takes a deep breath and wonders what time it is, reaching for his backpack to get his cell phone. He's not wearing his watch today, because he woke up late after a peaceful night of no dreams, and forgot to put it on. But before he can retrieve his phone from the bag, there is a knock on the door and it opens.

Maybe it's Father Way, saying it's time to go, but it's not. Frank sees a skinny guy, wearing glasses. It's someone Frank doesn't know, who says, "Sorry to interrupt, but do you know where Gerard is?" Frank blinks at him, trying to process the information. "I mean, Father Way? He's not in the house."

"I always find him on the balcony, smoking," Frank says, casually. Father Way hasn't been in the room with Frank for three weeks and he always has to search the house for the priest, so that he can take Frank home. And he has usually found him smoking, sitting on a beanbag in the balcony.

"He's not there either, I've checked," the guy says and Frank shrugs.

"Then, I don't know, sorry." Frank sees the guy smiling at him and looks down at his bag, to get his cell phone. He hears the guy thanking him and then the door closes.

Frank checks the time on the little screen and sees that he still has thirty to forty five minutes before he has to leave, so he goes back to the books and works on taking more notes and quotes for the next chapter of his essay. He drowns in this task, in the books and the information they possess, writing in his notebook like crazy and structuring a whole new chapter. At some point, he loses track of time again and sighs, rubbing one hand over his face because he feels rather tired.

His phone ringing gets his full attention and Frank grabs it from the spot on the desk where he put it earlier. It's his mother. He brings his cell to his ear, answering the call, and she starts talking right away, "Where are you, Frank?"

"At Father Way's?" he replies, because it's obvious where he is. She knows this too.

"It's almost eight, you should be home by now."

"What?" Frank takes the phone from his ear and confirms what she just scolded him for. "Shit," he whispers, but his mother clears her throat accusingly, so she must have heard.

"Sorry!" he apologizes immediately, but he rolls his eyes because his mother knows perfectly well that he curses. He's old enough for that now, even though she might not have noticed. "I'm sorry, mom. I don't know where Father Way is, but I'll go find him. I'll ask him to take me home immediately."

His mother agrees and tells him to hurry up because they're not waiting much longer to start eating dinner, and he rolls his eyes again. It's not like he really cares. They don't need him to eat dinner.

Well, Frank gets his things together and leaves Father Way's books, the ones he doesn't need anymore, on the desk, and throws his backpack over his shoulder. He grabs the book he is working on now, wanting to take it home, but he knows he needs Father Way's permission first. He needs to _find_ Father Way first.

Frank looks around the house, inside every room with an open door, like the kitchen and the living room and the bathroom, and he knocks on the one room with the closed door. It must be the main bedroom, but nobody answers from inside. Then Frank opens the entrance door and looks in the balcony and around the backyard, but Father Way is nowhere to be seen. Frank sighs.

He tries the stairs to the downstairs level, where Father Way's brother lives and he thinks he can hear voices and like, porcelain clinking. So Frank descends the stairs, silently, in case that's not Father Way and he's trespassing on someone's private moment. Frank hears him, though.

"It's such a relief to get this letter now," Father Way is saying. Frank stops by the corner where the voice is coming from and is about to walk further and reveal himself, when a different voice speaks up.

"Are you really sure you want to be dismissed?" it asks. Frank doesn't recognize it.

"I'm sure," Father Way says, in his assertive tone. That, Frank can recognize at distance. "I've spoken to the Bishop and he agrees that it's better to let go for a while. I was very careful in my exposition to him, and very honest. I don't think I'm a good influence anymore, from the fact that I am doubting my faith and my strength to fight against this."

What can he be talking about? Frank has always known a Father Way who is very convinced of who he is and what he's doing, of what he says and how he wants his message to get through to people. Right now, however, he's listening to a completely different person. Frank recognizes the voice and its graveness, but not this deficiency in his confidence.

"I understand. It'll be like taking days off from work," the second voice says and Frank hears Father Way laughing lightly in that baby chuckle of his. There's a muffled sound again, like a cup or something similar hitting a table, and then Frank can hear someone humming and more porcelain clinking. He wants to use this silent moment to turn the corner, but he can't make his feet move. His curiosity is winning over common sense and he realizes that he might hear something soon which will tell him why Father Way is talking like this; talking about leaving.

Then the second voice speaks up again. "It's because of that kid, isn't it?"

Frank breathes heavily, almost gasping, because he hopes he's not the kid this voice is talking about. There might be other kids in Father Way's ministry, he has no idea who Father Way is close to and how close they would be.

"Mikey, I don't wanna talk—" Father Way starts immediately, sounding defensive, but stops himself. Frank wonders if he heard Frank's sound from where he is, around the corner, but there is only the sound of porcelain again. And then Father Way's voice, "What time is it?"

He sounds panicked and a chair scrapes against the floor in the room, so Frank decides to take the opportunity and move. He makes some noise to announce his 'arrival' and turns the corner. Father Way is walking in his direction, but stops abruptly, when they see each other. He sees the same skinny guy from before, with the glasses, in the library asking for Father Way; he's sitting at the table and he's obviously Mikey, so he must be the priest's brother. Frank nods at him, before he takes in Father Way's face.

Looking a little downward, Frank notices that he's not wearing his collar. He has the same button-up shirt from when he was at the church, but the collar is not there. Right now, he's not Father Way; he's just the man behind the priesthood, the man who was ordained eight years ago and, while doing his job, changed Frank's mind in the best way possible. Frank sighs, looking up at his eyes again.

He says, "Sorry to interrupt, but I was working in the library and lost track of time, and my mom called—"

"Don't worry. I'll be right back," Father Way replies immediately, walking past Frank. He bumps against Frank's backpack on his way to the stairs. Three or four steps up, he says, "I just have to get my car keys."

Frank thanks him and waits, looking down at his shoes. He keeps hearing the porcelain sounds and looks up. The skinny guy, Mikey, is drinking something from a mug and is looking back at Frank, but they don't say anything to each other. Frank realizes that this guy knows something about why Father Way has been acting weird lately, and he most likely knows that Frank kissed him weeks ago. Suddenly, Frank feels quite uncomfortable, but the feeling passes quickly when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs again.

Father Way has his keys jiggling in his hand and, when Frank looks up, the white collar is back in place. They're back to the strictly professional mode, but Frank hates it. When he's wearing this collar, Frank will always remember having kissed him with it on. It will always feel awkward, now.

"Let's go," Father Way says, touching lightly on Frank's elbow. That hasn't happened since the kiss and it makes Frank smile to himself, but he hides it behind a nod. He sees Father Way waving a greeting at the skinny guy and they both go outside, to the car. The whole drive is silent and awkward, of course, but Frank will have to persevere.

**

The next Sunday, at mass, by the end of the service, Frank snaps back to listening when Father Clarence announces that Father Way will be dismissed from the ministry, meaning he will temporarily stop serving the community. Father Clarence lets him talk, gesturing towards him, and Father Way steps closer to the pulpit and takes a deep breath.

"I have been dealing with a few personal issues and I need time to reason with myself. Recently—" He stops himself by clearing his throat and Frank focuses as hard as he can on his facial expressions. He wants to listen to Father Way's words, but read through him and in between every line. Frank is sure this is related to the conversation he heard between Father Way and his brother, as the same word has been used.

"A couple of years back," Father Way restarts, placing his hands on the border of the chest-high pulpit, but taking another deep breath. "A couple of years back, I started mistrusting my own faith, started questioning my own heart about matters that should always remain clear, but they haven't been. In his first epistle, John said, _if we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,_ and I shall do it, first to Father Clarence and finally to our Bishop."

"I need time, though; I need to reach some clarity on these thoughts that I've been having. It's not issues with the doctrine itself, don't worry. I'm just concerned about my own soul and my own conscience. I shall be retreating into myself, in contemplation and immediate dialogue with God, but I do not intend on leaving you unattended. Measures are being taken and a new ordained minister will come help you while I'm gone."

"Do not worry," he says, taking a look at the whole church. Right in the back, Frank feels the priest's eyes on his own for a second. Despite the fact that Father Way is looking elsewhere, Frank feels slightly uneasy, because it all goes back to what he heard the skinny brother ask Father Way about a kid… Father Way is still talking, though.

"I'll be praying every single day for this community, my community, for you who have watched me grow as a child and later in adulthood. I hope you do too. May God be with you. Thank you." He finishes with a confident smile, but retreats immediately from the pulpit. His shoulders slump down a little and, despite the distance between this seat and the altar, Frank can perfectly imagine that he's not smiling anymore.

Now that Father Way's little speech is over and Frank has time to reflect on the words he just heard, he realizes that it was a very emotional moment. His heart is beating fast and he's worried about this. Father Way had never said anything about leaving the community and had never showed any doubts on his calling and beliefs, so Frank doesn't understand. Has he done something wrong? Well, Frank obviously kissed him, but Father Way did mention that he's had personal issues to resolve, so a simple kiss can't be the sole cause for all of this.

The service is over now, with Father Clarence saying a prayer to help Father Way meet his calling again and, then, the final blessing. "Thanks be to God," Frank whispers and crosses himself, hearing the recessional hymn but not even paying attention to what is being sung. He's thinking of Father Way's decision and the brief part of the conversation Frank heard on Friday. He can't get it off his mind and he hopes he has a chance to ask Father Way about it.

In the vestry, however, while hardly anybody goes there on every other Sunday, there is a rather long line of people there, calling for Father Way in unison and saying prayers in his name. It's very creepy and Frank frowns upon it, but he takes a seat in the corner and waits for his family's turn to meet with the priest.

Father Way's eyes find his sometimes, but his solemn expression and the cordial smile he shows to people never change. It's automatic and it actually makes Frank more curious and worried. From this corner, he can hear Father Way answering question after question, saying it's a personal matter that he can't talk about any further, stating that there is too much at stake where he's standing at the moment, including his abilities to preach and stand before the community, and admitting that it's a personal crisis that he must solve by distancing himself from the church.

"I need to meditate on my intentions and find my own peace of mind, and it's easier to do that in seclusion," Father Way says more than once, making it sound like it was rehearsed, purposely for this occasion. His cordial smile remains.

Frank can't smile, though, because this means that he won't see Father Way again, and Father Way won't touch him again or work with him again until God knows when. And despite their recent awkwardness, Frank wishes things could be different. He wishes he could speak with Father Way alone and figure their shit out, apologize for his stupidity and for kissing him, and just tell Father Way that he means a lot more to Frank than a kiss.

He controls his feelings when his mother greets Father Way and asks him something. Frank approaches them and stands beside his father, while he can hear his mother wishing Father Way good luck. Something must be showing on Frank's face, because the priest turns to him next, saying, "Don't worry, Frank, everything will be alright."

Frank takes a step closer to him, as his mother gives him enough space. He says, "I just wasn't expecting this. I can't help but worry. Is it because—" Frank pauses because, although he wants to ask Father Way if he has anything to do with his decision, Frank can't do so in front of his own mother. So he diverts the conversation instead, saying, "Nevermind, but I'm worried about my essay."

His mother nods in Frank's peripheral vision and he looks at her, reading her concerned expression. He smiles at her, understanding that she's worried too because he has been doing pretty much everything for his essay at Father Way's house, and only looks back at Father Way when he speaks up. "I honestly think you've got enough material to do a great job. Too much information can make it confusing."

Frank nods, because they've talked about this before when Frank had no definite idea as to what amount of detail to write, but he just wishes he could do the rest of it at Father Way's house. It's been a useful source for Frank's work and personal knowledge.

"I need this time to myself," Father Way finishes, smiling that same cordial smile. It irks Frank a little because it's the same one he used on everybody else, like Frank and his family are just more people he talks to. He can't really feel jealous, though; his relationship with the priest is not supposed to be special.

Afterwards, Father Way gives them his blessing and they leave. Frank feels his heart sinking, heavy with emotions, because he admitted a lot of stuff, and things became awkward and now Father Way is being dismissed from what he does best in life. It feels wrong, but Frank has no choice but to respect Father Way's decision.

Until two weeks later, when Frank can't take it any longer.

While the weather became suddenly hot and dry, his grandfather fell sick after the first week. It's nothing serious, according to the doctors, but due to his advanced age, they recommended absolute rest for ten days. A nurse comes to spend the morning and the first hours of the afternoon with him, but as soon as Frank arrives from school, he turns into his grandfather's personal servant. Thankfully, Frank is still forced to go to church after school, but he only spends a few minutes there, dedicating them to talking to his grandmother, praying to God, and praying for Father Way.

He's been in Frank's mind a lot, of course, because they haven't talked since that Sunday when his dismissal was announced. Frank wishes he could just come by his house and chat, but with his grandfather on strict bedrest and Father Way in seclusion, Frank never has a chance to call or visit him. Frank remembers one day last week, after a very bad night when Frank had woken up feeling sinful and guilty all over again, and he just wanted to see if Father Way would talk to him about it. His mother didn't even let him try, of course; she told Frank to talk to Father Clarence or to the new priest, Father Fergus, instead, but of course Frank wouldn't trust an old priest or a stranger with his deepest sins and secrets.

"Father Way said he wanted to be alone, Frank. He called it _seclusion,_ remember? We can't just interrupt his spiritual retreat to chat him up about a bad dream or whatever," his mother had said, making Frank pretty upset about her choice of words. He tried to protest, but she shut him down and sent him to check on his grandfather. Frank obeyed, but didn't even try to hide his anger.

He still is pissed at her, actually, even one week later, because his wet dreams haven't stopped. Frank's mind has been wandering toward Father Way a lot more, remembering his books, and the conversations the two of them had, and the kiss that made it all go downhill. All of this has been tormenting Frank like crazy. In the end, it's unbearable for him because, although he hasn't jerked off since the kiss, he feels sinful for having thoughts about Father Way and relating him to his Dream Guy.

Frank needs to confess, he deeply wants to repent, but he needs Father Way's blatant forgiveness and understanding too. He really doesn't want to tell anyone else about what is going on, not even in confession, so he has been edgy for these two weeks.

Today is a Wednesday, two weeks and a half after Father Way was dismissed from his ministry in their community. Every morning, now that the hot weather seems to have settled in, Frank rides his bike to school. He has a long day ahead of him, knowing that his essay is due next week. It's almost complete, he's just missing a few minor details, but he wishes he was able to get them. He could always engage in a quick hunt through the books in the school's library, but he doubts he will find what he wants in there. Frank knows where he wants to go, but he knows he can't do it.

He tries the school's library anyway, coming out with nothing in the end, and then when he talks to his friends, he finds out they won't be able to practice tonight. Lukas is going out with his parents, apparently, and Jeremy had already sent them a text message saying he wouldn't be going to practice. Now that they are two members down, they won't do it at all. Frank sighs and gets his bike, riding frantically to church. He wants some extra minutes in there today, to rest his mind and come to terms with a plan to get those final quotes and prints for his essay.

When he gets home, only the nurse is there, so Frank sees her off and prepares himself for a million requests from his grandfather. And he doesn't have to wait for too long. He's gotten used to this, though, and his grandfather is starting to feel better, so he embraces every request with patience and tries out a caring smile every time he goes inside the room where his grandfather is.

His mother doesn't take too long to come home from work, either. Frank thinks she's a little early today, but that's even better. He starts talking to her about how his day was long and tiring, and how he needs some fresh air to get his mind in place to write the last chapter on his essay. It's easy to get her to agree with him.

"Be home by seven, though," she demands of him and, looking at his watch, Frank is sure he can do it.

First, he goes by his bedroom to grab his backpack. He throws his cell phone, his iPod and his wallet in there, in case anything happens. He also brings his notebook, though; he might need it if he gets to his destination and is successful in finding who he wants to see. Frank leaves his bedroom with a grin on his face.

He passes by the kitchen and finds his mother sitting at the table, drinking what Frank assumes is a latte because those are her favorites, lets her know that he has his cell phone with him and that he will be home by seven. She smiles gently at him and pats his head. Frank kisses her cheek in return. He knows their relationship has gotten so much better since that dinner with Father Way, when he had explained his view on homosexuality and his charm worked on Frank's mother so well. She's now almost convinced that Frank isn't a sinner; that Frank is only searching for who he is and trying to find the reason of his existence on earth. She has told Frank this, actually, and it made him feel corny, but very happy that his mother finally accepts him as he is.

In the garage, Frank looks at the band corner guiltily because he could be playing guitar with his friends right now, but the need to do this is so urgent that he just… ignores that for now. He gets his bike and takes his iPod out of the backpack, turning it on, sliding it into the small pocket at the front of the bag. He zips the pocket up and throws his backpack over his shoulders again, and then takes one earbud and listens to the music coming out of it, while he gets outside and starts pedaling his way down the driveway.

He reaches his destination quickly, because he's been moving his feet to the rhythm of the fast, heavy punk songs playing on his iPod. He doesn't see anybody at the front of the house, but there's a car in the driveway, so he rides to the back of the house. He hopes Father Way doesn't mind that he came by without warning, and that he is in fact at home and doesn't mind seeing Frank today. He needs the quotes and the prints for the essay, so Father Way can't just refuse to see him.

The bike, Frank leaves it leaning safely against the wall under the stairs and he looks up at the balcony. He can't see anyone upstairs from where he is, but when he goes up the staircase, there's a dark-haired man sitting on the beanbag, smoking. It's Father Way and he turns his head to Frank, once he's close enough. Frank doesn't say anything at first, enthralled by the look of Father Way's long fingers wrapped around the cigarette.

As incredible as it seems, he has found the priest smoking in here before, but he has never _looked at him_ do it. He realizes now that it's quite appealing, because his hands are big and his fingers are long and he just holds the cigarette with a smoothness that should never exist in a priest's movements.

"What are you doing here?" Father Way asks, in between exhales of smoke. "I thought I had been clear about wanting to be by myself."

His voice is very stern, unwelcoming, but it makes Frank more sad than annoyed. He needs to be true in his answer, though, so he says, "I had to come."

"What for?" Father Way takes another drag, inhaling deeply and never turning his head to the side. He seems to be waiting for a response, because Frank hasn't said anything else of course, but he just can't. He's too busy controlling his mind, at the sight of Father Way sitting there, exhaling smoke out the right corner of his mouth.

"I think we should talk," replies Frank, nonchalantly. Father Way looks straight ahead now and Frank finds his profile irresistible. It doesn't get less pretty when Father Way shakes his head in response, denying Frank the need to talk to each other.

Since that is out of question then, and Frank wants to respect Father Way's will of not talking, Frank tells him something else. "Well, I also need a few more quotes from your books and a print of the title page of every book I'm referencing in my essay."

"You could have called. You've got my number." Father Way looks back at Frank, his cigarette almost finished as he takes it one last time to his mouth. Frank inhales with him, relishing in the view. He has wanted to see Father Way for more than one reason, of course, and his attraction to the man as well as the memories from all his dreams are very strong reasons. He shakes himself out of it when Father Way speaks again. "I could have emailed them to you."

  _That wouldn't be as interesting as seeing you again,_ Frank thinks, but he doesn't dare saying it out loud. He would sound disrespectful, not to mention that it would be weird to hit on a priest. He doesn't say anything at all.

He's actually glad about his silence when Father Way stubs the cigarette out on a small ashtray he's got on the floor and then gets up. Frank sees that he's wearing simply dark blue sweatpants and a Madonna T-shirt; it's nothing fancy, he's just a regular guy right now, but that's exactly the image Frank wishes he could recreate in his dreams. He has never admitted that out loud, but he wishes he could talk about it right now. He would tell Father Way so many things and he wouldn't be embarrassed.

They are both standing there, staring at each other. Father Way looks sleep-deprived, thinner and older than Frank had expected after only two weeks. He feels tense, because they were awkward before Father Way left the ministry and Frank just wants to get closer and ask him if it has to be like this, now that Father Way has been dismissed from his functions. Frank wants to hear him, feel him, kiss him because right now he's just another man and Frank is attracted to him.

Something shifts in Father Way's eyes and it makes Frank's heart jump, and his stomach churns. He can't identify what it is, though. Frank goes up the remaining steps, finally getting to the balcony, but Father Way only moves away, toward the door. "Come in, then. I'll let you take a look at the books again."

Frank thanks Father Way and follows him inside when he opens the door. Frank breathes in because this is Father Way's house and he's in here again, inhaling this calm ambiance and, despite the reluctance in admitting it, Frank is a sucker for this house. He has missed this place, and the lonely, peaceful air of it.

He breathes out and follows Father Way, focused on his dark hair and then on his shoulders. He doesn't know why he's staring at them, but his eyes trace their shape and he is sucked into an empty place of his mind, simply observing.

Something rattles and Frank loses his focus. He looks down towards the sound, finding Father Way's hands down by his sides. He's holding something in his left hand. Frank recognizes the shape of this object, having been given one himself when he was ten years old. It's a rosary, of light reddish-brown beads and a golden cross falling into the air, and it's wrapped around Father Way's wrist and fingers.

Father Way stops and Frank stops behind him, not bothering to keep a respectful distance. He looks up at the back of his head, waiting. Father Way steps aside, though, and pushes the door to the library open, saying, "Take your time. I'll be in the kitchen."

Frank doesn't want to let him go, so when Father Way turns around to leave and the priest's arm bumps against Frank's shoulder, Frank grabs his wrist and pulls. Frank's heart beats fast, his mind works fast, his reflexes move faster than anything and Frank gets on his toes to catch Father Way's mouth with his when it's close. He doesn't even think about it. He just closes his eyes and goes for it.

The kiss is short and soft again, and Father Way puts his hands on Frank's elbows, but this time it feels different. He's not pulling away just yet. Father Way is lingering in this kiss, holding on for a tiny second but it seems like a long time to Frank. Eventually, Father Way pushes Frank away. Frank opens his eyes and sees that Father Way has his own closed, but then the eyelids flutter open. He murmurs, "I told you not to do that again."

"Why not?" Frank tries to kiss him again, but Father Way moves quickly out of the way and takes a step back, taking his hands off of Frank's elbow. "You never gave me a reason not to do it. I have only had reasons to kiss you."

Father Way keeps stepping back to a distance that Frank won't be able to cross without the priest reacting. "You can't keep doing this, alright?"

Frank deflates, very confused about what that is supposed to mean, but also disappointed. Maybe at himself, because he didn't plan on coming here and kissing him, or ruining everything even more; he just really wanted those quotes and prints. He doesn't regret it, though. Maybe this will make them talk and fight, and they can solve their issues in the end.

"C'mon, Frank, stop looking at me like that." Father Way sighs and the rosary falls to the floor. They both lean down to pick it up and meet halfway, eyes focused on each other's. Frank doesn't catch the rosary, he doesn't even care that it's there on the floor anymore.

He blurts out instead. "I think about you a lot, and I know I'm not supposed to because it's wrong and wicked, but I also have a few questions that I can't figure out by myself." Frank places one knee on the floor, for support. Father Way's eyes go wide, but Frank barely notices. He keeps talking. "Have you ever noticed I haven't called you Father in a long time? And have you wondered why? Have you wondered who I keep dreaming about every other night, and why? Or why I've been—"

"Stop it, Frank," Father Way hurries to interrupt him. His eyes hold a wild look in them, like he's panicking about this. Frank can pretty much imagine why, but he never backs off. He keeps facing the priest, confronting him directly about the kisses they have shared and their possible meaning. Still, Father Way gets up and steps back, pushes Frank away and groans out loud. "Telling me this won't change anything!"

However, Frank gets up too and closes the distance between them again. He quite enjoys this pressure he's putting on Father Way. It might drive him crazy and give Frank what he actually wants. For now, Frank looks deep into his eyes and Father Way never pulls his gaze away.

"What do I have to do to make you understand?" He pauses, gulping. Father Way stares at Frank, but his eyes keep moving a lot — it's like he's taking in Frank's whole face at the same time. "This isn't just a thing. This awkwardness between you and me is connected to everything, starting with when I found your books and told you about it, then when I kissed you, and then you suddenly started having doubts about your faith or whatever."

"It's not—" Father Way closes his eyes, breathes heavily and Frank can feel it on his face. Frank licks his lips, watchful, wanting to close the distance between them even more, but he doesn't dare to. He lets his heart beat fast and his mind wander on its own. He can feel his thoughts tumbling against each other, confusing, uncertain, and Frank certainly doesn't know what to do with them. He just waits for Father Way to open his eyes and continue. "It's not whatever, and it's not only about my faith. I just can't stand feeling like this. I was ordained eight years ago and this feeling, these doubts, _nothing_ is as recent as you think. It's not only about the books and the kiss, Frank. It's not, but you wouldn't understand. And I can't tell you."

"Of course you can. Trust in me. You used to talk to me."

"Never about myself, Frank." Father Way steps back again, holding the rosary close to his chest. He never stops staring at Frank, but he does start shaking his head and looking away sometimes. Frank can't interpret it, but Father Way looks anxious and hurt, and all the more beautiful because of it.

Right now, he's just a man who's torturing himself because of things Frank can't understand, who keeps clutching the rosary and breathing heavily and closing and opening his eyes repeatedly. Frank moves forward, closer, but Father Way stretches one hand out, making it look gigantic in front of Frank's chest. Father Way says, "Just go. Get all the books you want and take them to the church when you no longer need them. But get out of my house. Get out of my mind."

He pauses, staring at Frank with wide eyes, shining and hurt, in a really profound gaze. Frank wants to do something; he wants to crawl closer and ask him why, but Father Way has one hand in between them like a brick wall keeping them apart. And it hurts Frank too, equally deep, because it seems like he can't do anything to make this better except obey and leave.

"Now, Frank."

Except there is one question left unanswered, a question Frank heard being asked a couple of weeks ago, when he was hiding behind a corner in the downstairs level of this same house. So he decides to inquire about it. "That last Friday I was here, I heard you talking to your brother. He asked you if _it's because of that kid_ , but you didn't answer. Why?"

"Don't—" Father Way brings his hand down, looking somewhat defeated. He looks down as well, staring for a long moment at his shoes or at the floor beneath them or at nothing in particular. Frank wishes he could see inside Father Way's head, see what's bothering him so much and why, see if it's related in any way to Frank himself and if there is anything he can do to help. Because he certainly doesn't want to keep living in this awkward tension with Father Way. They used to get along pretty well, and one stupid kiss shouldn't be enough of a reason to keep them distant like strangers.

Finally, after even Frank's mind shuts up for a while, Father Way looks up and continues what he meant to say previously. He says, in a low voice, "I don't want to talk about it. I don't have to tell you anything. I'm leaving town and you should—"

"You should tell me, if it's about me," Frank insists. His legs shiver with anxiety, wanting to step even closer to the priest, but not knowing how or the reactions it would cause. He stays put, vigilantly.

Father Way sighs, looking down again as his shoulders slump as well. He looks defeated now, his tall imposing figure now shrunken and withdrawn. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Explain it to me." Father Way shakes his head slowly, almost sadly. "Show it to me."

Frank takes a long pause and gets closer to him again, not wanting to think about any consequences. The brick wall appears to be gone and he can approach this man again, and he looks so hurt that Frank thinks only of comforting him. And Father Way doesn't move again, except the sound of his fingers shifting around the rosary that remains pressed against his chest, like he's praying silently. Frank keeps getting closer, until his face is next to Father Way's ear, since he's still looking down. Frank can almost feel Father Way's body heat.

They both breathe in, but only Frank speaks. "You lingered there… when I kissed you earlier."

"Don't do this," Father Way says, barely a whisper. Or maybe Frank didn't hear it correctly because of the rush of blood pounding in his own ears.

"I have to. Despite your job and vows, you drive me crazy and I wish I had told you sooner. You're all mystery and riddles, and so fucking beautiful—"

"Frank, don't even…"

Frank hears it perfectly this time and he keeps hearing the beads of the rosary rattling under Father Way's grasp as he thumbs them agitatedly, but Frank doesn't care. He pulls Father Way's chin up and pushes him back to the nearest wall, reaching for his mouth once more. Frank practically wraps himself around Father Way, both hands on his arms to hold him there, but Father Way isn't pulling away this time. He's moving with Frank, moist lips sliding against Frank's. He pulls on Frank's hair at some point and their mouths open automatically, tongues darting out and tasting each other.

They have only kissed twice before, and never long enough for it to become anything, so this has to mean that Father Way is willing to take this further. And Frank is too, of course; he wants this to get past the boundaries of awkward because they need this. Things have been tense and weird between them for too long.

Father Way is humming and Frank groans in the back of his throat, moving his legs without thinking. Father Way doesn't protest, though; he actually slides his knees apart when Frank slides one thigh in between them.

The kiss stops and Father Way gasps and throws his head back against the wall. "We can't," he groans, shaking his head, yet he doesn't stop rubbing up against Frank's thigh.

"We can't," he repeats, gulping. Frank can see it perfectly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down slowly, but Father Way's head comes down again and Frank catches his lips easily.

Frank opens his mouth immediately and his tongue works wetly against the priest's. He puts his hands on Father Way's face, holding on, pressing him against the wall while the priest lingers on the kiss, moving his tongue slowly and humming occasionally. He pulls back to give Father Way a moment to react, but he slides aside, away from Frank, looking at him with blown pupils and shining eyes, showing off heavy doubts about what they just did.

Frank is out of breath, looking at Father Way and feeling desire taking over his body. His hands tremble and he longs for the touch of Father Way.

Father Way is panting too, but he starts to speak. "I want to tell you everything, but I feel like I—"

"It doesn't matter. I want to know." It's getting late and Frank knows he has to go home soon, but he follows Father Way to the kitchen when he turns around and leaves. He watches from the doorway as Father Way gets a mug and fills it with coffee, drinking it almost at once. He puts the mug down on the counter and holds it with one hand. Frank just stares at him and... listens.

"It started when you came out in confession," he begins slowly. "Well, it obviously wasn't immediate, but as I kept speaking to you about homosexuality, and I got to know you better and developed a close relationship, things started to change for me. I started questioning myself and the way I did my job. I've always loved what I do, because I lead people in worship, but also in their personal issues. I can help people and that in itself is wonderful."

"But then you started coming to me about your dreams and it ruined everything for me." Father Way holds his face down, his hair obscuring part of his face as he fiddles with his hands. Frank holds his breath for a minute, because he can't wait to listen to the rest of this. If this means that Father Way is as attracted to Frank as Frank is to him, it might also mean that things can change between the two of them.

"I was supposed to stay impartial and serene, but I couldn't, and my cravings rose again. I'd had urges before, but I managed to control them in the first year, but then it all came crashing down. And it was massive. I confessed it all to the Bishop, and he gave me two options: either focus on my vows and resist the temptation, or spend some time away from everything and think things through."

As he says this, Frank starts approaching Father Way, wanting to be close to him after this confession. The priest is opening his heart and mind to Frank and that is so rare Frank never thought he was going to hear it. He steps closer and Father Way doesn't move at all.

"That's what I'm doing. I took the Holy Orders because I believe in them, in what they represent. I believe in continuing Christ's work on earth, so I tried to leave it alone and came to a conclusion. This—" Father Way stutters and trails off, but maybe that's because Frank has reached out for his free hand.

"You—" Father Way tries again, but Frank squeezes his hand. The rosary is still wound around his wrist and fingers, and Frank can feel is against his own.

Father Way finishes his speech, saying, "This is God testing me, and I can resist. I'm strong enough to keep fighting against it."

He looks at Father Way's face and takes his features in, the sharp jawline and the soft lips, still shining from the previous kisses. Father Way still looks sad. Frank slides one finger across the skin on Father Way's palm, and realizes it's not broken by guitar strings like his, but softened by God's work. He wants to comfort this man because he means a lot to Frank, even before they kissed or when they had a strictly professional relationship. Father Way has always helped him, has always been an important source of calm and advice, and Frank knows he will never forget the influence Father Way had over him in his teenage years.

"You don't have to," Frank says, in a soft voice. He leans closer to Father Way's face, almost sliding their lips together. Father Way closes his eyes. Frank observes his serene face, just waiting for something to happen, and touches his cheek. The priest leans in to the touch, like it's the most amazing thing in the world; like no one has touched him like this in a very long time. Pressing his forehead against the side of Father Way's face, he continues, "You don't have to be strong all the time."

Turning his head so that his nose lifts Frank's face a little, Father Way kisses him. He tastes like coffee now and it's as addicting as the beverage itself, and Frank relishes in the feelings and the smell and the taste. It creates a shiver across Frank's body and Frank presses close, welcoming Father Way's tongue with his own. The closeness is overwhelming.

They kiss for a long time, with Frank's hands setting around Father Way's face again and the priest putting his over Frank's back. Frank can feel the rosary through his clothes along with Father Way's hands, as they land on a low spot and press Frank even closer.

Frank uses his thigh between Father Way's knees again, remembering how Father Way had moved against it before. He smiles into the kiss and deepens it, wrapping his arms around Father Way's neck. Father Way pulls back and throws his head back a little, whispering Frank's name. "We shouldn't—"

"But I want to." Frank presses his thigh up against his crotch and Father Way releases a small moan. He closes his eyes, as Frank adds, "I don't care if this is wrong."

Father Way moves back into a kiss, but Frank barely lets their lips brush together. He whispers, "I know it's wrong, but it feels so good."

Frank pushes the T-shirt collar down a bit, exposing Father Way's collarbone, protruding and apparently sensitive, because the priest groans and his skin shivers when Frank kisses there too.

"So good," Father Way echoes Frank's last sentence, making Frank grin and tongue at the bone again and again. Then, he kisses the hollow between the two collarbones and he can feel Father Way's skin trembling under his lips and his hands shaking on the small of his back.

"Frank..." Father Way forces Frank's chin up with one hand and kisses him again, harder this time. It boils in Frank's stomach, or maybe in his crotch, because Frank cannot distinguish his body parts right now. He's melting.

"Let me touch you," Frank begs against the fervent kiss. He feels hot under his clothes and lets his weight fall onto Father Way's body, trapping him against the counter. Their middles meet and Frank realizes that he's very hard, all of a sudden. They're pressed close and it's hot, and Father Way squirms against Frank and the teenager feels _his_ hard cock too, and they moan into the kiss.

Frank doesn't know how to move this along, but he feels heat crawling over him and gets his hands down Father Way's arms and chest and stomach. He presses them against the priest's crotch, upside down, fingers adjusting to the curve of his balls, but he's just feeling the bulge in his sweatpants. He has never been in this situation, so it's strange and exciting at the same time, as Frank tries to figure out what to do next.

Father Way leads him kind of awkwardly, kissing him hard and moving his hands to the front of Frank's jeans. The priest unbuttons and unzips them, but Frank isn't sure how he will react to a foreign hand down his pants. He might not even last a minute before he comes or he might make a fool out of himself while being inexperienced, but he forgets all about it when a hand wraps around his cock. Frank caves in hard under a first touch there. It's hot and tight, and Frank doesn't know what to make of it.

He slides his own hand down Father Way's sweatpants, feeling for his cock and fisting at it slowly. Frank is only trying to get the feel of it in his hand, how it's long and heavy and how it has a slight curve to the left. It's different from Frank's own dick, and he had no idea it would feel like this; holding Father Way's dick in his hand gives Frank the power to make him feel good and, despite it being overwhelming, it gives Frank something to focus on.

From then on, it's all fast and furious. Frank can barely feel anything as Father Way jerks him off swiftly and he tries to correspond, but his arm is stuttering. He's so close already and his mind is clogged with lust. He can't think. He comes in the next second and feels hot under his clothes, and his skin boils in anticipation as he's jerking someone else off for the first time.

It's not just _anyone_ either; it's Father Way. It's the man Frank has been attracted to for weeks.

Afterwards, they kiss again, Frank clinging to Father Way's neck. He couldn't care less about time right now. He is where he has wanted to be for so long. It makes him mad with delight, but the priest pushes him away gently. In the end, they just stand there, cocks limp and exposed as they breathe soundly.

"You need to go, Frank," he says. Although it's surprising to hear this, Frank knows he's right. He dresses up and looks at his watch, realizing he should have been home a long time ago. He can't say it's not worth it, though.

**

That night is so much easier because Frank dreams about nothing, and he doesn't wake up hard the next morning. He feels much lighter, comforted, and he spends that next day in a happy mood.

He feels slightly confused, he has to admit that. Frank doesn't know what that handjob means now, or how he feels about Father Way and how Father Way feels about him, or what is going to happen next. He would like to do it again, to do other things, but Father Way didn't look at him when he left, so he won't even want to talk to Frank again. Frank had forgotten to get the quotes and prints, though, so at least he has an excuse to go over there again.

He doesn't think of it until Friday, though, when he tells his mother he's going to Father Way's house.

"I thought Father Way was in retreat, not meant to speak with anyone?" she reminds Frank again patiently, but Frank is prepared to lie.

"I saw him at church the other day. We talked for a little while and he said it'd be alright to call him, since it's about the essay." His mother nods.

She says, "Don't be home too late."

"I won't, I promise." Frank kisses her cheek in thanks and takes his backpack and bike. He rides fast, not needing his iPod today. He gets there and finds Father Way on the balcony again, but this time he's dressed in his usual outfit of black slacks and a button up shirt. He isn't wearing a collar though, which means he's still himself, still the person Frank is attracted to.

They don't speak to each other at all as Father Way takes them to the library. Frank starts working immediately, with Father Way leaving the library as soon as Frank sits down at the desk. He leaves the door open, though, and Frank doesn't get up to close it. He only needs to copy a few sentences to his notebook and add the respective reference. He tries his best to not think about the top shelf, but wonders if the books up there have been touched since Frank mentioned them.

He hears a noise outside and swiftly looks down at his notebook again. He's about to turn to a third book when Father Way appears in the doorway. "Are you done? I haven't heard you in some time."

Frank needs a plan to get Father Way closer. "Hm… I'm having doubts about this quote, if I should use it or not," he lies, looking down at the book and alternating with his notebook.

"What's the context?" he asks, and Frank explains his essay chapter to him. Father Way reads the quote and tells Frank his opinion. He gets excited in his exposition and can't stop talking. He's standing beside Frank's chair, but the teenager can't stop looking at the priest's mouth, until Father Way stops talking. "Frank, stop staring at me like that. I know what you're thinking about, and it's not gonna happen again."

"Of course not," Frank lies, grabbing his pen. "Is there a way I can get a copy of these title pages, though? I want to use them as attachments to my essay, to prove my work in research, if you know what I mean."

Father Way hums and looks down at Frank, frowning deeply. He seems to be deep in thought. He says, "Mikey's got a scanner downstairs. You can use it, but can you print them at school?"

"I didn't bring my pen-drive with me, though," Frank says, honestly. "I had no idea—"

"It's fine. I think Mikey has a few extra ones somewhere. You can borrow one and give it back…" Father Way makes an absentminded gesture with one hand, before he concludes, "Whenever."

"Okay." Frank nods and realizes he just got an excuse to come back.

In silence, they gather all the books Frank has used in a big pile and bring it downstairs, where they scan the title page of every single one of them. It takes them a long time and neither of them speaks a word that isn't related to what they're doing. When they're all scanned and properly saved in a pen-drive, they both reach for the power button to turn off the scanner.

Frank's hand gets trapped under Father Way's larger one. He tries to take his hand back, barely thinking of it, but Father Way doesn't let him. He presses his palm against the back of Frank's hand, then moves his so they're palm against palm, Father Way's thumb looping around Frank's index finger. Frank can't divert his eyes from their smooth touch. Father Way's hand feels light and soft, and he moves it around so that he's holding Frank's hand in his.

The computer screen is still on and the screensaver comes up. It shows colored bubbles floating around, like the ones Frank feels rising in his stomach. It's the feeling Frank gets when he's either nervous or flattered, but the bubbles burst into nothing when Father Way presses onto Frank's back. He feels warm but rigid, as his other arm wraps around Frank's torso and his mouth falls onto Frank's neck. Frank turns his head to the side, allowing the slide of Father Way's lips across his skin, then up to his earlobe.

"I didn't mean it." Frank hums questioningly, because he can't articulate proper words. His answer comes in the shape of a hum first, then in the feeling of Father Way's crotch against his ass and finally the priest's voice sounds in his ear. "I mean, about this. I want it to happen again," Father Way concludes, bringing his hand down to Frank's stomach while the other squeezes Frank's fingers.

Suddenly, the scanner makes some kind of noise because apparently they forgot to turn it off, but Frank ignores it for now. He turns around instead, so he's facing Father Way. They stare at each other for a long moment and Frank watches the other's face attentively.

Father Way's eyes are profound and wondering, so Frank closes his and just moves forward, capturing Father Way's mouth with his own. The kiss is slow and they're still holding hands, intertwined fingers lost between their chests, but Father Way puts his fist down. Their torsos fall against each other, meeting in a warm embrace. Frank is careful with this kiss, because he definitely isn't sure of what it means, but Father Way moves both hands to Frank's face, holding it in place and kissing him harder.

Frank doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he gets them on Father Way's elbows to support his weight, letting himself be kissed. They make out, bodies pressing close, rubbing together, and Frank moves his arms up Father Way's sides and around his neck. He thinks about all the wet dreams he's had in the past year, about how the last ones have been about this same man. Frank gets hot all over and clings to Father Way with both arms and one leg. He pulls back for air.

Father Way wants back in quickly, but Frank keeps him at bay and whispers in his ear, "Take me upstairs." Frank will be more comfortable there, especially in the library.

"I'm not gonna fuck you," Father Way protests, rapidly. He looks quite self-conscious about it and the sudden blush Frank sees on his face gives him away. "I can't make that commitment to your body just yet."

"I'm not asking you to." Frank mouths at Father Way's earlobe, thinking of what makes him feel good when he's sleeping and dreaming.

They pull away and walk upstairs to the library, holding hands again. Frank feels the pen-drive in his hand and drops it on the desk for now, and then he pulls Father Way to the couch. The priest sits down, but Frank remains kneeling on the floor.

"I know this is crazy, but I really can't help myself," Father Way says, with a grin upon his face. Frank admires it and realizes it's one of the most beautiful smiles he's seen, crooked and wide and beautifully honest.

"Then don't," he says, smoothly, rubbing one hand over Father Way's thigh. He moves it over his crotch, as he whispers, "I've been dreaming about this for a year, you know?"

Frank kisses him lightly and starts unbuttoning his pants, but the priest puts one hand on Frank's forehead and keeps him away from his crotch. "Now, wait, you can't blow me. Not right now."

"What? Why?" Frank asks, confused.

"I don't have any condoms with me, and—" Father Way insists.

Frank kind of laughs at him, rolling his eyes. He says, "Look, I'm a virgin and I'm pretty sure you haven't had sex in a long time. Am I right? In that case, I highly doubt you've been carrying an infection or whatever this whole time without knowing it, so I say I can blow you, condom or no condom. And I'm gonna do it right now."

Frank is grinning when he gets Father Way's cock out. He's seen it before, but never up close like this, and he has to admit that it's a little intimidating. He starts by grasping it as he feels confident enough to do this. He cannot imagine what it will be like to have this big thing in his mouth. Frank looks down at it and slides an open palm up the shaft, darting a glance up at Father Way's face.

His eyes are open and observant, and he nods at Frank, saying, "Go slow."

Frank does. He starts with little kisses over his pubic hairline until he reaches the tip of Father Way's cock. It's pink and gorgeous, broader than his own, which makes it a little scary but he gulps down that feeling and kisses the tip. It feels firm and smooth against his lips and Father Way sighs patiently. Frank is supposed to make him enjoy this, so he licks a trail from root to tip and revels on the taste of the hot skin of Father Way's cock, earning the most varied, pleasurable sounds in response. He keeps going, keeps kissing and mouthing and tonguing at the head and at the length, starting to feel more confident about what he's doing.

Soon he feels Father Way's hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and Frank responds with his own hand wrapped around the priest's cock, lifting the tip to his mouth. He opens up his lips and feels the touch of it, feels the hot weight and the wetness.

"Don't be scared, Frankie, you're doing well," Frank hears Father Way say. He looks up and finds the older man looking down at him, a blissful expression all over his face.

But Frank has something to say right now. "Don't call me Frankie." And then it's like he suddenly changes, from the nickname he hasn't allowed back in his life since his grandmother passed away, and also from the encouraging words Father Way just professed. He opens up his lips and takes Father Way's cock in his mouth.

"Oh my fucking—" Father Way moans deeply and Frank tries to relish on what he's hearing. He does the rest slowly, trying to get used to the stretch of his mouth. Father Way's cock is thick and long and Frank is scared his inexperience will make him lousy at giving head, but when Father Way starts humming and encouraging him, Frank might as well start believing in himself.

He feels the cock in his mouth, heavy over his tongue. There's also the hand on his shoulder that moves to his head, rubbing his scalp and weaving through his hair, but then it's all about his mouth. He takes more into his mouth and gags, but lets it flow. He gets a rhythm going and, despite twinges of pain in his lips from the stretch and the spit running down the corners of Frank's mouth, he can see how appealing this is.

Whenever he tries to take more of it down his throat, Frank gags a bit, but it doesn't get too bad until Father Way bucks up all of a sudden. Frank chokes and pulls away for a quick breath. He looks up, just curious, and Father Way is looking down at him. He asks, "Are you okay, Frank?"

Frank nods, bringing one hand to adjust his jaw a little, as it feels a little stiff. Father Way slides his hand to the back of Frank's head and rubs there, comforting Frank.

"Don't struggle with it. Put your hands on my hips. It's okay, it's easier if you hold me down. And use your hand, like…" The priest exemplifies, wrapping a hand around his cock, down at the base.

Frank has seen it before, but he didn't think of it until now. Before he thinks too much about it, he leans down and takes Father Way's dick back into his mouth, sucking on the tip and replacing Father Way's hand with his. Soon Frank knows he's got it because Father Way moans out loud and he finally understands why this feels so nice. Nothing is more overpowering than giving someone this kind of pleasure without getting anything back.

"It's so good, Frank, mmm," Father Way says, then he moans. He brings his hand down from Frank's head and strokes at his face instead, like he's cheering him on. Frank looks up at Father Way and sees him relaxed, and Frank himself feels torn inside out right now because of this man. "Hmm, Frank, you feel so fucking good, so— _gnarh."_

Frank moans around the thick cock in his mouth, enjoying every single moment of this. He cups at his own balls for a few seconds, since he's very hard too, but giving it attention would only distract him from getting Father Way off. The older man moans and squirms on the couch, his hand moving back to Frank's hair and pulling on it this time.

Frank's jaw feels numb soon and it's really hard to keep sucking and pumping at the base, but eventually Father Way is pulling Frank's head back. He lets himself be pulled and takes his mouth off of the priest's dick, letting it fall on his stomach. Frank moves his hand faster now and jerks him off quickly, just wanting Father Way to come.

Father Way pulls him up by his arms, working on Frank's jeans, and then Frank's straddling the priest's thighs and they're jacking each other's cocks at the same time. Frank tries to kiss him too, but his lips refuse to move and he can only pant against the priest's mouth. In the end, they come all over their laps, over Father Way's pants and Frank's too, but it doesn't matter. This is good.

"I hope that was okay," Frank says after they come down. Father Way has his head against the couch and his eyes closed, but there's a grin on his face. He straightens up and looks at Frank.

"Understatement of my fucking life," he mumbles and pulls at Frank's face until their mouths line up and they kiss. Frank's jaws feels less stiff now and he drives his tongue in immediately and rubs it against Father Way's, licking everywhere and enjoying one of the best physical things about Father Way. He's really great with his tongue. Frank loves his kisses.

Sighing, Frank thinks he could die right now. He would die with a huge grin on his face and feeling rather satisfied.

**

Frank's essay is due in two days and he has the final version on his laptop, twenty two pages and the attached prints from his resource books, and Frank feels proud, but still uncertain about the final result. What if he repeats himself, or if something is wrong, or if he has major typos? Frank has never been such a perfectionist, but this essay is important. It's not only of major importance to graduate, but also a very personal matter, and he has heard from Sister Janette and Mrs. Webster and Mr. Byrne that they're expecting a lot from him. Today, though, all that confidence has gone out the window.

He needs someone to tell him it's okay; having someone actually read the essay would be perfect, but he's not sure he has time to ask for that — or if he knows someone who will tell him the truth about the work he has done. Frank sighs. His friends are most likely busy working on their own essays. His father wouldn't enjoy it because it's not the kind of literature he reads and he may not give Frank what he needs anyway. And his mother, grandfather and teachers are obviously out of question.

There is only one person who would be perfect. Frank doesn't want to go to his house unannounced again, and he lost his cell phone, or it got stolen at school, or something, so he'll have to use the house phone. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. His mother comes in and says, "There's someone on the phone for you."

He watches his mother as she exits the room, closing the door behind her, and then he says into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Hi, Frank, how are you?" It's Father Way.

"I could be better," he replies, with a shrug.

"Oh. What's wrong?" Father Way actually asks. "Is it the essay? Have you handed it in already? I'm calling you about that actually."

"It's only due on Friday, but I finished it last night. But yeah, I'm a little nervous because I've read it over and over again, but it's worth nothing because I know it so well. Having someone else have a look at it before I hand it in would be amazing," Frank says, wanting to make this sound as problematic as he can so that Father Way reveals his interest in reading it. "Do you think you could—"

"Read it?" Father Way offers, and Frank can hear the smile on his voice. It's quite endearing, even over the phone.

"Yeah. You'd be doing me a huge favor," Frank replies, shifting on his chair at the desk.

"Well, sure! I was actually curious about how it turned out," Father Way says in return. He has always been involved and interested from the start, so Frank isn't surprised. "Do you have time? I mean, to bring it here?"

Frank checks the time on his watch and realizes he only has half an hour until his friends arrive for band practice. He could always tell them that he's gonna be late today or he could ask his mother to drive him there quickly, but he has a different idea. Something much more interesting, actually. "Not really. The guys are getting here in half an hour for band practice, and that's not enough to get there and back. But wait a minute, I've got an idea. I just have to talk to my mother."

"You could ask her for a ride…" Father Way puts in, but Frank ignores his plead. He leaves his room and gets downstairs, calling for his mother. "Or I could—"

Frank interrupts before Father Way can say anything else. He's in the kitchen already, and his mother is by the counter turning around to look at him. "Mom, do you think we could have Father Way over for dinner?" Then he speaks into the phone receiver. "I could print you my essay and give you a copy, and ride to your house tomorrow after school to pick it up. What do you say?"

His mother shrugs, but still asks, "Why would Father Way read your essay, though?"

"Because he did help me work on it. And I could use a second opinion," Frank replies to his mother's question. He's trying really hard to contain his smile, not wanting to let it show before he gets a final answer from the priest, who's still quiet.

"I don't know, Frank," he says at last. "Are you sure your family doesn't mind?"

Frank questions his mother in this regard and she says, "I can make dinner for one more person. Tell Father Way it's not a problem."

"See? It's not a problem," Frank says into the receiver again, smiling full-on now.

Father Way hums but pauses briefly. Then he says, "Oh wait. My brother's home. I'd like to spend some time — oh no, never mind. His girlfriend came with him, so that means he won't be coming upstairs tonight. I guess I can come."

"Great!"

Then, the doorbell sounds. "Wait a sec, lemme answer the door." He jogs to the door and opens it to find his bandmates standing there, grinning at him. "Hey, you're early!"

Frank waves the phone at them, before inviting them all in. The guys head out to the garage and Frank stays behind to finish up his phone call, but when Father Way starts asking about when he should come over and if he should bring something with him, Frank passes it along to his mother. He wants to join his friends and she'll give him all the details.

After the first couple of songs, his mother appears in the doorway and calls Frank inside. This has never happened before; she always left them alone when they're playing. He puts his guitar down and follows her, a frown high on his forehead, because he doesn't understand. He gets it, though, when she asks him, "Frank, where did this idea of inviting Father Way over come from?"

"Well, he said he would like to read my essay, so I didn't think it'd be—"

"He did say he's excited to come and read your essay, so it's alright. I'm sorry I interrupted your practice." She sends Frank off, but he kisses her cheek first.

It's amazing how their relationship went back to what it was before Frank came out. He has always been fond of his family, not having many other people to fall back on, and they've always been close until his news hit them in the face. It's nice to know that his mother's opinion on homosexuality has changed, though, much thanks to Father Way and his convincing argument the last time he was over for dinner, several weeks ago. Frank feels good with her once again. If she minds the fact that he's gay, she doesn't show it anymore. Frank's grandfather still does, but Frank has learned to ignore his caustic comments, because they're never going to stop.

When he gets back, he can't get the grin off his face. He feels super excited. The weird feeling comes when Frank realizes that it seems like they've been playing for a longer time today. Frank looks down at his watch and then up at his friends. "It's past seven, I dunno if you guys want to go home, or—"

"I think I better go," says Jonas and Frank understands, knowing that his parents can be very strict when it comes to keeping routines and following schedules.

"Sure. I just don't get it how—" Frank trails off, trying his guitar again and hearing the note hanging in the air. This has never happened before. His mother has always cut the power at seven PM sharp.

"Maybe your mom's doing something and forgot—"

"No," interrupts a voice. It's not any of Frank's friends' voice, so Frank turns to look at the source. Father Way is standing by the garage door, the one that goes back into the house. He adds, "I asked your mother to keep the power on. I wanted to watch you play. I hope you don't mind."

Frank blushes instantly. He's played for friends before, but never someone he's been sleeping with. Frank feels overexposed and vulnerable, and his mind doesn't function properly, but they agree to play one more song for Father Way. Frank is excited about playing for him, but at the same time there's a rush of blood up to his ears and cheeks, and his heart beats fast. Then he can't take his eyes off of Father Way as he stands in the doorway and watches them. But by the middle of the song, Father Way's eyes meet his and don't turn away.

By the end of the song, he's light-headed and flustered, but grins when Father Way applauds briefly, laughing and congratulating them all. Jeremy talks to him, while Frank puts his guitar back into its case. When they're finished with the tidying up, Frank waits for his friend to wrap up the conversation with Father Way and then he looks down at his feet until his friends are out of the garage and he's alone with Father Way.

"I knew you'd be great to watch play. You've got all this energy stored away somewhere and it's amazing to watch you let it all out through your guitar," the priest says, with a smile. Frank can't take his eyes off of his bare throat. Since he's not wearing a collar, he's just another man and the one Frank happens to— He doesn't let himself think about that, reminding himself that they're at his house and so is his family.

"Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. Sometimes I wish we'd leave the basement, but other times I wonder if we're ready to take that step," Frank replies, honestly. "And we're all going to different colleges now, so I dunno how that will work out."

"I'm sure you'll find your way to make this work," Father Way says, sounding sincere and supportive. Frank likes this attitude, even though the priest has only listened to them play a few songs, in that demo he returned to Frank. He adds, "You guys are awesome as a band, you seem coordinated and stuck together, and there's a lot to bet on. If it doesn't work out, though, you will always have other opportunities. Starting with college."

Frank nods. "Thanks. It's nice to have your approval."

Father Way laughs lightly, in that baby chuckle of his. "Well, you seemed embarrassed, though. I saw the way you were blushing and how you looked away when you caught my eye. And you're still blushing."

"No. I'm just… hot." Frank says this casually, giggling at it, but then he realizes what he _really said,_ that what he said could be interpreted in another way, and his eyes widen in embarrassment. Father Way just laughs at him.

"You are, Frank, but it's alright to be embarrassed. I've never seen you play live before." Frank blinks at him, though, not knowing any other way to react. Father Way smiles at him, comforting again. "You have a great energy and it shows quite easily. It's amazing to witness."

They both blush at that remark and Father Way rubs at the back of his neck. Frank knows what this means. He looks at Father Way's lips; he cannot avoid it because they're right there, but he also looks at his eyes, not sure about where to focus on.

Father Way smacks his lips and pulls Frank out of his indecision, by saying, "We better get inside. Your mother said dinner is almost ready."

His mother takes a tray of food to her father's room, so he can eat in bed since he still is supposed so rest for a few more days. The nurse is staying late tonight, so that they can dine in peace with the guest. Frank is seriously relieved that he doesn't have to worry about his grandfather offending Father Way.

The meal goes as it should and Frank's mother starts a conversation about Frank's essay. Father Way says, "I want to read it. I helped him a lot, so I'm curious about the final result."

He looks curiously at Frank, who can't interpret his gaze in any way, so he decides to explain why he insisted that Father Way should come here and get the essay. "I just need to print it out, because I don't think reading twenty pages on a screen is good for anyone's sight."

"I wouldn't mind," says Father Way, shrugging. "I read a lot of things on the computer before I decide to buy the books."

"Whatever, but I know your love for physical books," Frank says, but sees Father Way's astonishment being reflected in his eyes, which have widened, as though Frank had meant it in a different way. He gets it and blushes a little, as he tries to come up with an explanation. "I mean, books that you can, uh, touch. What did you think I meant?"

Frank's parents laugh openly, but not Frank and Father Way. The priest is gaping and well, Frank is too busy blushing. The moment passes when his mother asks, "And will I get to read it?"

Frank gags on his mouthful of rice and tries to cough it out. He looks at his father, who shrugs. He looks at Father Way, who looks back, expectantly. He's the one who has always told Frank that the truth is always better, but Frank is still reticent about his mother's reaction to his essay theme. Even so, he sighs and decides to tell her, slowly. "Mom, I'm not sure you'd like to read it, but, uh—" he trails off, taking a deep breath and feeling his heart in his stomach.

"Why not? It can't be that boring," she points out. Frank sighs a little.

"I have to tell you something. The essay is not about the different translations of the Bible. I'm not interested in languages and you know that," he says slowly, looking down at his food for a moment.

"So," his mother starts, humming. Her eyes flick toward everyone at the table, before finally stopping at Frank. "So you've been lying to me?"

Frank nods. "I'm sorry. I had to. I was scared of your reaction, but you changed your opinion thanks to Father Way, I believe. And we're closer again, so you deserve to know the truth. It's about homosexuality and how it's mentioned in the Bible, like what people think of it." His mother bugs her eyes out at Frank, but is otherwise silent.

Nobody speaks before her. Frank looks down, waiting for her reply. "I understand why you didn't tell me, Frank. I don't condone you lying to me, but I know how it works. I was a teenager once, and I know it's hard to admit some things. I don't like being lied to, of course, nobody does, but I know why you did it."

When she pauses, Frank thanks her. Then, she adds, "I'd still like to read it, if you don't mind. I'm sure it's interesting and that I could learn something from it."

Frank smiles at her, honestly thankful and, aided by Father Way, he engages the family in a conversation about the Bible and God and homosexuality. It's a delight to finally share this personal subject with his family… and their priest.

**

The printer buzzes loudly as the printed sheets come out. Father Way is watching them attentively, like he's reading them already, and Frank is watching _him_ intently. The silence lingers until the printer finishes up.

Father Way turns to Frank as soon as he gets the essay off the printer dish. "Why did you want me to come here?"

"To give you my essay. What other reason could I have?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"What do you think I meant to do?" There is no reply from Father Way, apart from a look down at his shoes. "Well, don't worry. I'm not going to do anything, or tell anyone about—"

Frank gestures between the two of them. He really just wanted to give him the essay — and okay, maybe wanting to see Father Way counts as a reason too, but that's it.

Frank experiments a moment of peace whenever Father Way is near, and the memories don't seem just vain and illusory. Frank nods back at the priest, smiling at the thought he just had, and he's just about to turn around and leave when Father Way pulls on his arm.

Their mouths meet.

First, Father Way is just mouthing at Frank's lips until Frank's brain hits off. He reacts with a passionate kiss, but pulls away before any of his parents walk in on them. Then, Frank isn't sure of what he's supposed to say next because he has never been in this kind of situation before. "I don't—"

"Shh. Don't say anything," says Father Way, in the silkiest tone of voice Frank has ever heard from a man. He brushes his lips softly against Frank's forehead. Frank doesn't react; he has no idea how to, quite frankly. He just blinks at Father Way and listens to him. "I'm going to read this and you can come by my house tomorrow, and we'll talk about it. We'll talk about everything tomorrow, I promise."

Frank nods and accepts the quick peck on his lips.

**

Frank pulls back from the kiss and pants heavily, looking down at Father Way's hand wrapped around his cock. He can feel Father Way's breath on his face, warm and labored, and tries to kiss his mouth again, but Father Way looks down.

They're sitting on the couch; well, Frank is, because Father Way is kneeling on the floor as he quickens his strokes. Frank gasps at the mental image, Father Way in between his legs prompting himself to do something Frank has never felt before.

"Holy shit!" Frank curses, when Father Way takes Frank's cock into his mouth. Frank has his hands rounded into fists around his thighs, simply enjoying the sensations. They're so great and incapacitating, and Frank isn't even sure what to do next.

He comes fast and hard, moaning loudly. Father Way just gave him the sexual experience of a lifetime and Frank doubts he will ever feel this good again. He sits there humming and panting and feeling his pulse on his crotch more than on his chest. He keeps his eyes closed, the lids feeling too heavy to lift.

The next thing he knows is the cold sweat running down his neck and the hard cock between his legs. Frank turns his head to the side, burying his face on his pillow, as he slides one hand down his sweatpants. _Fuck._ He jerks off before the morning comes.

**

The next day, Frank rides his bike to Father Way's house thinking that he will just get an opinion on his essay. When they get to the library, however, Frank can feel the hot press of his school shirt against his chest. It's nothing to do about the essay, but the man he is visiting. He has a perfect image of Father Way between his legs and that makes his skin crawl with anticipation and wonder, makes him want to throw himself on Father Way.

First, he asks about his essay, but Father Way seems to have other ideas. He grabs Frank by the collar of his shirt and kisses the hell out of him, backing him up against the closest wall. It drives Frank fucking crazy, because he really loves these kisses.

Father Way moves down to Frank's neck, biting there, but Frank is completely focused on the hand the priest is sliding down to his slacks. Instantly, Frank's pants are down at his ankles and his boxer briefs follow, and then Father Way has his mouth on Frank's cock. Frank cries out immediately. It's only a slight slide of a tongue up his dick, but it gets Frank moaning up to the fucking moon. His brain is in overdrive and Frank can barely feel, because this is so intense and mind-blowing. It's the most amazing thing ever, dissolving his legs and melting his brain until he's just a mess of limbs and come on the floor.

When he comes back to himself, Father Way is getting up. Frank notices that his cock is out of his pants, even though he's not hard, but Frank doesn't react in any way. He would not be able to reciprocate after he came so quick and so hard.

Later on, while Father Way sips on a mug of coffee, Frank sits down at the kitchen table with his own mug of latte that smells delicious. His brain is still buzzing from the previous sensations in the library, but he's trying to hear every single comment Father Way is making on his essay. The pages are in front of him, but he stills feels flustered all over. And Father Way keeps touching him, on his hand or arm or elbow, and asking Frank if he's feeling alright, and Frank just gulps and nods. He has never felt so fucked out and disorientated.

Father Way takes Frank downstairs and they use the brothers' computer to correct the mistakes the priest has found on the text. It isn't until Frank is about to leave that he says, "I think I should come back tomorrow."

"What for?" Father Way asks, frowning down at him.

Frank sighs. It's very clear to him, because he wants to know what to expect of this new found relationship. "I think we seriously need to talk about this. I mean, you promised me yesterday that you'd tell me everything today, but I understand that we didn't have much time. I have to come back, so we can talk.

"Ah yes." Father Way nods solemnly, never taking his eyes away from Frank's. It's like they're boring right into Frank's soul. "Alright. We do have things to talk through."

"It's a date," Frank says with a grin, even though he's worried about the outcome of their conversation. For now, though, he just laughs at Father Way's wide eyes in response to his choice of words, and waves the priest goodbye.

**

The next day, Friday, Frank hands in his essay in his homeroom class and, although he grins confidently at his teachers, his heart beats fast through the rest of the day.

He goes to Father Way's house as soon as he gets out of school. He puts his bike by the stairs at the back of the house, running up the steps until he finds Father Way. He's sitting on the beanbag in the balcony, in jeans and a T-shirt, and he turns his head when Frank is still a few steps away from the balcony.

"Frank, what's wrong?" Father Way asks, sounding concerned. He gets up immediately and pulls Frank onto the balcony. Frank pants a little against him, breathless because his lungs are shitty when he has to climb any stairs, especially after riding his bike so fast.

He sighs. "We handed in our essay today and, well, I've been in this frenzy all day."

"Oh no, you need to relax. Everything is going to be fine. Your essay is flawless," Father Way consoles him and it works a little, except Frank's heart won't slow down. "You look like you're gonna have a heart attack. Come inside. You want some water or anything?"

Frank accepts a glass of water and sits at the kitchen table with his hands around it. He downs it in one slow go, finishing with a less frantic pant in his lungs. "Thank you," he says, as Father Way pours himself a mug of coffee. Frank has no idea how he can drink it like that, black, not even a hint of sugar. "This could also be related to what we need to talk about, since I'm a little worried about what you have to tell me."

"You don't have to worry," says Father Way, shaking his head. He wraps one big hand around his mug and gets up, offering Frank a soft smile. "Look, I might have just what you need."

He takes a small pause, always staring at Frank, like he means to create suspense. Frank doesn't tear his eyes away either, eager to know what it could be that Father Way wants to show him. "You wanna come see my peace corner?"

"What's that?" Frank inquires, frowning. He puts the glass on the table and gets up too.

"Well, it's this little corner in my bedroom where I sit down, or kneel down, and stay there in silence, contemplating the things that occupy my mind at the moment. I pray up there every morning and every night, too. I can do it just anywhere, but that small space makes me feel really peaceful. You could try it out, maybe it will help you calm down." Father Way explains this with an excited voice, but Frank shakes his head at the priest.

"I don't know if I should," he says, feeling really self-conscious right now. Father Way just invited him to a private place where he kneels down with his own mind and with God to cleanse his soul in meditation. "You said it's in your bedroom, and that's a private space."

"Yeah? Well, so are my pants and you've gotten into them," Father Way jokes, grinning.

No matter how funny Father Way tries to make it seem, Frank knows it's not the same thing. The bedroom might hide everything that defines Father Way as a person and maybe Frank shouldn't see that yet. "It's not the same thing," he says, blushing hard, but ends up agreeing in the end.

Father Way presses one hand against Frank's back, pushing him in the direction of the bedroom. Frank has never been in there, and the closest he's been to it was a knock on the door when he was looking for Father Way around the house. It was back in the days he was working on his essay and when things were still weird between them, after the first stolen kiss.

Things have evolved since then and Frank is happy about that. He feels curious about this room anyway, now that he's allowed in it. He shouldn't feel weird about it if Father Way doesn't mind letting Frank see his bedroom. Maybe it's nothing like Frank thinks.

The room is large, but there is only a single bed in a corner, tiny and low like it's just the mattress on the floor. There is a small pile of books and a tall lamp on the floor next to it, then the closet against the wall and a small dresser with five drawers. There aren't many things there, which isn't surprising because Father Way is a simple spirit. Then in the corner by the window, there's a big part of the room dedicated to a mat, like a yoga mat but bigger. Next to it lies a cross, and a few books.

When Frank approaches the corner, clearly Father Way's "peace corner", he sees that all the books are Bibles and he asks, "Why do you have three Bibles?"

"They're in different languages," Father Way explains, patiently. He kneels by the books and picks up the first one. "One is in English, another in Latin and the last one is in Italian."

"Ah of course. A guy from Jersey has to be half Italian or he won't fit in," Frank jokes, being half Italian himself.

Father Way grins. "I see you're already feeling better. I knew this place was magical."

Frank nods, but kneels down and asks, "Read me something in Italian."

"Which book do you want me to read?" Father Way asks politely.

"I don't know. How about your favorite?" Frank asks, although he has no idea which book that might be. Father Way must know every single one of the books in it so well, since he has such great knowledge of every other book they've studied together for the essay. The Bible can't be an exception.

He sees Father Way picking up a different book from the pile and can hear him leafing through it, looking for what he wants to read. Frank looks at the cross next to him and studies the long rosary that's wrapped around its arms. It's pearl white and gorgeous, iridescent under the sunlight that comes in through the window.

Finally, he can hear words coming out in Father Way's voice and Frank pays attention, although he can't understand what's being said. The mere sound of his voice calms him down, though. It's so grave and devoted; it's the voice of someone who really loves what they're reading. Frank simply touches the beads of the rosary, hearing them rattle softly, and keeps listening to the words Father Way is saying in Italian, enthralled by the way all those words flow together. Frank enjoys the way they feel.

He leaves the rosary alone, despite its beauty, and looks at Father Way, focusing on his face. He's so concentrated, intriguing and fascinating. The curve of his jaw, his sucked-in temples, the lines at the corner of his eyes, the wrinkles over his top lip and the continuous series of expressions on his forehead… everything contributes to make Frank even more impressed by this man in front of him.

Father Way looks up like he can feel Frank watching him and stops reading. He looks quizzically at Frank and asks him if there's anything wrong, but Frank replies, "No, I just like to look at you. Keep reading."

Father Way goes on reading, turning page after page. Frank's heartbeat feels steady and heavy in his chest, now. Maybe it's the place or Father Way's voice, but he feels empty of emotions. He's just listening, awed at the power of the words — they're God's words, coming out to the world through one of His servants. It's beautiful.

Frank doesn't want this to stop, but Father Way finally stops reading and looks back at Frank. They stare at each other in silence and Frank feels his heart racing to his mouth once more. The power of the Word is replaced by the intensity of Father Way's gaze, which comes so raw and stripped down that Frank has to look down. He can't bear it, but Father Way lifts his chin back up and approaches Frank on his knees.

When he's close enough, Father Way kisses Frank. It's very soft, one hand running up Frank's cheek, thumbing at the bone, until Father Way pulls back slowly and says, "You're so beautiful, Frank. I'd do anything for you."

"Do you mean that?" Frank asks shyly. Father Way nods and kisses Frank again, moving his hand to the nape of Frank's neck now and pressing down carefully. Frank hums because he's so sensitive there. He feels the priest's tongue sliding into his mouth and takes it in, rubbing his against it.

Maybe Frank hasn't lived much of the world, being so young and only having been outside the country with his parents on vacation, but these words mean a lot to him. Frank knows he can count on Father Way for a lot of things, but hearing this directly from him is different. It's a promise of exclusivity and generosity that Frank didn't expect. It's beautiful and very endearing, though.

"What do we do now?" Frank asks in a soft voice. "You've been dismissed, but not from everything. And it's not even official, is it?"

Father Way shakes his head slowly and looks straight into Frank's eyes, or maybe into his soul. He says, "I know, but you must understand. It's a difficult decision. God has been there for me my whole life and I can't just turn my back on Him."

"And I wouldn't ask that of you," Frank replies, sincerely. He knows a relationship with God is one of a kind, but it doesn't forbid the existence of other types of relationships. That's what they're discussing right now, too. And Frank is curious about something. "Are there many Catholic priests in relationships?"

"More than the Church will ever admit, but most of them leave the other person after some time, because there is too much pressure on their shoulders to remain celibate and chaste. The Church believes very deeply that a priest does his job better when he's not committed to anyone in particular, when he is supposed to love an entire community equally, but I disagree. I believe that the work of God must be done by people who are profoundly dedicated to Him and hold nothing else in their minds, but I don't think anyone can live without loving another person."

"Do you — love me?" Frank tests. Father Way blinks at him, swallowing hard. Frank follows the shift of his Adam's apple and feels the tension of the moment. No matter what the next reply will be, Frank knows it will be intense from the way Father Way is looking at him.

"I like you differently, I know that, but I'd need to work on this connection for a longer time to comprehend how deep my feelings are. I mean, so far I've had too many feelings that I can't coordinate. I can't make sense of most of them, and I'm sure it's because my mind has been clogged with sexual tension and a debate with myself about whether I've lost my faith or if I'm simply confused. I've had something new with you. I've never broken my vows before and I was proud of that, but now I feel fulfilled for having established a connection to you. I can't deny that."

"So it was never a matter of faith?"

"I don't think so. You've given me so much and I can't just forget that. I want to open myself to you, but I'm scared that you'll feel threatened by the fact that I'm an ordained priest. No matter what I decide to do, I will always have divine grace thrust upon my soul. I will always belong to God in a very special way and I can't ask you to forget your layman's life. You need to think of yourself, and I can accept that, but I've also got this urgency to be with you, which is why I haven't been able to deny you anything you've asked. I want to give you that, and the way I feel physically and mentally about you, it's all connected. It's only one current of emotions running through my body."

"That is the most heartwarming declaration of love I have ever heard." Frank giggles and Father Way laughs that baby chuckle of his yet again, but Frank pecks his lips to shut him up. Then, he turns back to their serious conversation. "I don't mind sharing you with God. Like you said, He has helped you since forever and no one can replace the love He has for His children. I know I've never had a boyfriend, but I think—"

"We're talking boyfriends now?"

"No, I just meant—" Frank stops himself to clear his throat and to figure out what to say next. "Well, you said priests are in relationships quite often and I'd like to be in one, but I understand how difficult it would be, and it's not just you being a priest that's making this hard. I'm going to college in September, too."

They're both quiet, staring at each other again. Time goes by unnoticed and Frank just observes Father Way, his pretty face and the light in his eyes "But for the time being, I say we keep meeting like this until we decide to stick together or stay apart. That's how relationships work, isn't it?"

Father Way smiles and looks down. He looks so beautiful right now, shy in his own way. Frank holds his hand warily, watching his face, studying his expression. He imagines him like this forever, not wearing his clerical collar and just dedicated to Frank and to God but without any restrictions from the Church. Frank smiles at the idea and his heart speeds up again, but Frank shuts it out and leans in towards Father Way's face.

He doesn't know what will happen to them in the future, but he pleases himself with a tight hug.

**

They don't see much of each other for the next few days. Father Way told Frank he would like to spend some time on his own, in a true retreat to reflect on their last conversation, and Frank is willing to respect that. Now that Frank knows his feelings towards him, he trusts Father Way even more.

During those days, Frank starts getting busy with exams, at school. He wants to focus on them and study hard for each one of them. His essay might have been flawless, but he can't afford to fail these exams. He might have already been accepted into the college of his first choice, but he can't afford to fail his family's expectations.

As for the band, they start playing only during the weekends, because three of them are in high school and need to study pretty hard. Frank still plays his old acoustic some nights. And he doesn't know if it's about his tamed hormones or about Gerard himself, but he's comfortable with who he is. It's not that Frank expects Father Way to abandon his calling completely for a teenager, but whatever relationship they might have together, Frank hopes it will help him grow up into adulthood.

**

One, two, three weeks go by. Frank is finished with exams and, on Monday, he will get the grade on his essay. He needs to release some of the tension he accumulated during the exam season, so he goes out with his friends on a Friday night after band practice. They go to a gig at a tiny club in town and it's the most fun Frank has had this school year. Maybe it's because they are celebrating their almost graduation.

**

Frank feels great on Sunday morning. He's tension-free, not only because of that night out, but also because he doesn't have to think about schoolwork anymore. He's free from the essay and the exams and all the other school related stress, and apparently even from his wet dreams. He supposes things couldn't get better.

Until he gets to the church. There's a dark-haired person sitting a few pews ahead of them, looking very familiar. It's Father Way and he looks genuinely happy to be there. Frank starts fidgeting in his seat, because he wants to go talk to him. Father Way turns around and finds Frank's eyes. He smiles and his face kind of glows, like being there is the best thing in the world.

When the service finally starts, Frank tries to focus as best as he can on what's being said, although he spends most of his time thinking about Father Way and how he's sitting so close. He also wonders if the priest's retreat has finally ended.

When Father Clarence finally wraps up the service, with the final blessing, Frank is quick to cross himself and get up. He wants to go talk to Father Way immediately, but his mother stops him. He sees that his grandfather is still kneeling down and he sits down, huffing. He sees Father Way walking towards the altar, in the direction of the vestry, and being approached by several people, who greet him, smile at him, shake his hand and have a moment with him. Frank is the only one who has to sit in the back and wait, when he's probably the one who wants to talk to him the most.

When his grandfather gets up, they stroll toward the vestry altogether, but it's not the same thing because it's been a long time since Father Way walked in the same direction. He's probably out of the church by now, and Frank won't have a chance to be with him at all. He huffs again because this has just become the most annoying day of the week.

Talking to the priests at the vestry is not exciting at all, because Frank still thinks about Father Way and not about what is being said in the room, but he tries to be as nice as he can. He is a nice person, anyway. He bows his head before Father Clarence and Father Fergus, in the usual reverence to them.

The whole family leaves the church soon and Frank is upset because Father Way is probably gone by now. He goes outside with his eyes on his shoes, kicking lightly at the floor. It's a good surprise when he suddenly hears Father Way calling after his parents. Frank looks up immediately and meets the brightest grin he's seen on Father Way's face. He grins back, saying, "You seem to be in a very good mood today."

"Ah yes, I feel much better now," Father Way replies, nodding respectfully at Frank's grandfather who just walks away towards their car. Frank's parents are obviously much more courteous, smiling at him and shaking his hand. Frank just keeps grinning at him.

His mother starts asking Father Way some questions about his weeks of seclusion and he replies with ease. Frank just listens to him closely, swallowing the information he's sharing with them. At some point, Father Way says, "I've made a decision and our Bishop agreed to let me follow my own path, and I am very thankful. To him and to God, for He has graced me with enough clarity to decide on this."

"So what did you decide?" Frank asks curiously. He can't contain the question, as it might hold the key to his own future. He can only hope the outcome will be in his favor.

Father Way flashes a cordial smile at Frank's parents and his gaze crosses swiftly with Frank's, as he says, "I'd rather share that information with the entire community in due time."

That is incredibly vague and Frank doesn't feel satisfied at all. He wishes Father Way would just speak to him and admit what it is, because he's sure he wants to know about this more than anyone else. His mother seems content enough, though, as she says, "That makes me happy for you. You seemed to be in a pool of doubts the last time we saw you."

"Well, it' over now," Father Way confesses, smiling widely again. Frank is relieved that it's a genuine smile, and not the one that's just for show. This kind of smile has to mean that he has good news to share.

However, Frank can't hold back his frown; he feels it deep on his forehead, because he wants to know what this 'decision' is and if it's going to change his own future. He's not going to be arrogant to the point of thinking that Father Way has made this decision solely for Frank, but it's nice to think that he might be involved in the mix. He can only assume that he will find out everything about it soon enough as Father Way turns to his parents and asks,

"Would you mind if Frank came over to my house this afternoon?" He sounds nervous, though, and Frank doesn't know how to react to that unexpected question.

"What for?" His mother asks, frowning deeply.

"The essay has been handed in and not returned yet," his father says, frowning too. He looks at the both of them, seeming confused. "What could you have to talk about?"

Father Way widens his eyes, certainly because he didn't expect to be confronted like that. Frank sighs, because he isn't sure if he should help the priest or not, since he has no idea what he wants to talk about either. He decides to wait and see if Father Way can get out of this on his own, but he just hesitates and hums. "Well, uh, I want to—"

Frank can't take anymore of Father Way's timid gazes between the three of them, so he shrugs and saves his stuttering ass, saying, "I told him about the band's new song and he said he'd ask you so I could go over there and show it to him."

"Ah, yes. Sorry I didn't know how to—" Father Way trails off and gestures wildly with his hands, throwing them everywhere and weaving them through his hair. He pulls on it to one side and Frank shakes his head, grinning internally, because he knows this gesture really well.

Frank's mother is still frowning, but his father speaks up, "Well, I don't see why Father Way can't come to our house instead. Maybe even stay over for dinner?" He's trading looks with Frank's mother, who is still frowning at both Frank and Father Way and shrugs.

Frank snorts, though. "I doubt Grandpa would enjoy that. And I don't want to put Father Way through any embarrassing or offending comments. I respect Grandpa a lot, but he can't control his mouth most of the time when he doesn't agree with something."

His mother finally relaxes her forehead and looks pathetically at Frank. "I understand that. I was pretty rigid myself back in the days, so I suppose it won't be a problem." The two parents share a silent look and Frank's father nods, so it's decided. Frank is going to Father Way's house this afternoon.

Frank is still intrigued about this whole deal, but he just saved the priest's ass, so he better have very good things to tell Frank. And considering it's been three weeks since they last talked, it really ought to be.

**

Frank drops his bike by the staircase and goes up, one hand on the strap of his backpack. He only brought it to have a safe place to keep the CD with the first, lousy recording of the new song on the way over. He wants Father Way to listen to it, of course. He brought the first demo CD they recorded too, the one the priest refused to keep with him after their first stolen kiss, because Frank wants Father Way to have that one as well.

The sun is scorching today and he's sweating a little, but wipes his hand over his forehead to relieve himself a little. The rest of his body feels slightly disgusting, but he will have to manage.

He forgets about all of that and smiles when he sees Father Way sitting on the beanbag, up on the balcony, smoking. It must be where he spends his summer days, because Frank always finds him here. He's sitting there, with one foot under his ass and the other leg stretched on the floor, smoking with secure movements. He turns his head to look at Frank.

"Hey!" he greets excitedly, before taking another drag. He inhales and holds the smoke in his throat, never taking his eyes away from Frank's, which makes this moment the more endearing.

"Hey! Why do I always find you sitting out here?" Frank asks immediately, before he asks for a drag of Father Way's cigarette. He has never smoked here, because he always had the sneaky opportunities to smoke at school, but he has been very busy with schoolwork and whatnot to find a pause long enough for a smoke.

"Since when do you smoke?" Father Way asks, frowning at him. "You shouldn't be smoking. I know I do it myself, but I don't recommend it to anyone. Besides, you're too—"

"Too young to smoke?" Frank jokes, taking the white stick from the priest's outstretched hand. He takes a long drag and holds the smoke in his throat satisfied, before breathing it back out and saying, "How old were you when you started smoking?"

He's just curious, but Father Way's shoulders slump downwards and Frank laughs, because maybe he's caught him right there. Maybe Father Way was a lot younger than Frank when he started smoking. "I was thirteen, but my adolescence was shitty, okay? All my friends were older than me and I had to be as cool as they were."

Frank laughs again, because he doesn't care about that. He smokes because he was once influenced by some people he used to meet from when he started going to live shows with his friends, after a childhood surrounded by his father's musician friends who smoked a lot as well. So when he was offered his first cigarette as a joke, he took it curiously. He tells this to Father Way, and adds, "Okay, I totally choked on it, but I had my pride, so I kept accepting smokes from these people I met gig after gig. In the end, I got used to it and in fact, I do find it satisfying right now. I don't smoke at home, and my parents have no idea I do it frequently, but my mother was a smoker herself until I was like, twelve or so. She has no right to tell me off, when I come back home after a month or so at college with a pack of cigarettes and a confession."

"Frank!" Father Way laughs, a new, unlit cigarette slipping off the corner of his mouth. It's actually a very sexual image, Frank realizes now that he looks closer at the way the cigarette hangs from the priest's mouth, but he keeps it to himself.

"What?" He shrugs absentmindedly, taking another drag. His cigarette is almost over.

"You sound like you have a whole plan for this," Father Way finally says, lighting up and inhaling. He closes his eyes while his chest fills with air and smoke, and Frank bites his lip at what he's seeing. He clamps down firmly on his thoughts, though, because he came here with a very defined purpose.

"It has kept me away from smoking at home and getting caught. I think it'll be easier for them to accept if they think I was old enough when I started." Frank shrugs again and finishes the cigarette, motioning with it in front of Father Way's face. The priest gets the ashtray from the windowsill and gives it to Frank, so he can stub the cigarette out.

He waits until Father Way is finished with his own smoke, before he asks, "So why did you want me to come here?" He gets his backpack to his chest so he can look into it and checks the time on his cell phone.

It's almost four PM. The sun is still strong, up there in the sky. They might be in the shadow of the house, but Frank looks up and finds the light of the day shining across Father Way's face. It's really nice to see, because it's a beautiful face, but he forgets about it and gets something else from the backpack. "I brought you that new song we recorded at the garage."

"Ah, nice!" Father Way exclaims, stretching one hand out to get it. Frank, however, holds it out of his reach.

"I won't give you this until you tell me what your decision is about," Frank demands, assertively. He definitely hasn't forgotten.

"Come inside, I'll show you." Father Way gets up and turns toward the door, and Frank follows him, obedient and very curious. His heart is beating fast, not anticipating anything in particular, but obviously hoping that it's the kind of news he will enjoy.

He steps into the small foyer, where he can see the open door to the kitchen and the long hall to the rest of the rooms in the house. There is something else in there today, though. Three packed bags are sitting in the hall. Frank gapes and his eyes widen in confusion, blinking at Father Way and asking, "You're moving out?"

This isn't something he had expected. He can't believe that Father Way is leaving town, no matter what motive he claims to have. Weeks ago, he told Frank he would do anything for him and how his feelings were more than physical towards Frank. He tells him this exactly, before adding, "And now you're leaving?"

"Oh. It's not like that, Frank," the priest hurries to say, eyes anxious and with both hands outstretched towards Frank. He's shaking them like they're his head and he means to deny everything Frank is saying, but the luggage in the hall proves otherwise. Frank arches his eyebrows questioningly, and Father Way tries to reply, but he just stutters and hums again. Frank blinks impatiently at him, until the priest finally says, "I need coffee."

Frank follows him to the kitchen now. There is nothing left in there, except the coffee maker and the microwave, most likely for quick meals before he leaves. Frank looks down because he can't face this empty kitchen, this sign that Father Way is leaving without having warned Frank earlier.

He sees a pack of cigarettes on the table and takes one, but he doesn't know if Father Way allows smoking inside his house, so he waves it first. Father Way nods at him and approaches him, putting the mug filled with coffee on the table. Frank lights up the cigarette, but thinks it better and hands the lit cigarette to Father Way instead. He seems nervous, so Frank is sure he could use a smoke too. Then Frank takes another for himself.

His heart pounds loudly in his ears and there's a tight sensation in his stomach, and Frank feels his blood rushing hot in every direction inside his body, but he's willing to wait for Father Way's explanation.

They sit down at different sides of the table, but still facing each other, and Father Way takes a deep drag and holds it in. When he exhales again, it brings his next words. "I am leaving town because I really can't stay. And I don't mean because I'm confused or whatever."

He drinks from his mug and Frank sees how the hand holding his cigarette is shaking. Frank watches that keenly, absorbed by this moment of truth and honesty between them, and sucks on his cigarette. He actually likes this moment of silence, just the two of them smoking in the kitchen and waiting for the perfect moment to talk.

"I'm leaving the priesthood," Father Way announces unexpectedly, looking up from the mug and right into Frank's eyes. Frank's eyebrows rise in skepticism. He was expecting everything but this, because he has no idea what it really means. He starts taking drags of his cigarette more often, nervous and anxious to hear the rest of it. There is definitely a monologue coming; he can read Father Way very well now.

He doesn't have to wait long. "I've lost my faith in my vows over time. These past few years have shaped me into a different person, because I've been speaking so openly to you about your sexuality and your doubts. They started becoming my own doubts at some point, but telling you some things opened my eyes to a very clear situation. I don't want to be afraid of the world anymore, and I don't have to be."

"I became a priest to honor my Grandma, because she was a great inspiration for me and after her, I simply lost my muse. I no longer had a reason to fight against my fears and follow my dreams, because she wasn't there to inspire me anymore, so I gave in. I gave myself up to help others and it has been very rewarding, it's absolutely true, but I can see now that it was a way to shut the pain out. And to clearly forget the fact that I had no muse to live my life in peace, but I found new inspiration recently, in you. I realized I can help people from outside the Church. If I remain a priest, I'll be lying to God and to myself, and ultimately to you. This is what I want to do and who I want to be with."

Frank just blinks, cigarette forgotten in his hand as he listens closely to every word. He tries his hardest to make sense of it all, assimilating what he just heard, and it does take a long time to click. He sits there, staring into Father Way's eyes, trying to read his face and understand his exposition and it finally clicks. He's leaving the _priesthood_ forever. He wants to be—

"Are you saying you want to—" Frank can't articulate the words, so he uses gestures. Being someone who gestures a lot, Father Way seems to understand him.

Because he's smiling. "Yes."

Frank gets up immediately, walks closer and grabs his face, kissing him furiously. Father Way gives a squawk and flails on the chair a little, and the mug on the table falls down. Frank pulls back from the urgent kiss and looks at the mess they've made, picking the mug back up but ignoring the spilt coffee. He has more important things to do right now, like kissing Father Way. Except he won't be Father Way for much longer.

He grins widely and throws his cigarette into the mug, before getting Father Way's cigarette and throwing it in too. Then, Frank stares deeply into his eyes, leaning forward to kiss him. The thought alone fills Frank with happiness, because weeks ago he said he would do anything for Frank and he has just admitted it. Well, maybe it's not exclusively for Frank, but for himself and the values he has always stood for, but still that says a lot about Father Way's indomitable personality.

Frank grins into the kiss and makes it last a long time, Father Way sitting down and Frank hovering over him, lips pressed tight. Frank slides his tongue inside, wanting to explore, but he pulls back shyly. He smiles at the man in front of him and moves to sit on his lap, never taking his eyes away from his. Frank wraps his arms around his neck and pecks his lips, thinking out loud, "Now that you won't be a priest for much longer, what do you want me to call you?"

"Well, my name's Gerard, so."

"Yeah, I remember seeing it somewhere and hearing your brother calling you that, when he came looking for you in the library one day. He calls you Gerard regularly, or do you have any nickname?" Frank asks, curiously.

"My brother calls me 'Gerd' most of the time," Gerard replies, laughing a little. "It's an old thing from when he was young and inarticulate. It's not a nickname or anything."

Frank hums idly. He's not going to call him anything else but his full name, though. Frank likes it a lot, because it's such a singular name. "It suits you."

**

The next morning, Frank gets up and showers as usual. With the water running down his back, he can't stop thinking about _Gerard_ and all the wonderful things he told Frank. There is also the memory of mutual blowjobs in Gerard's bed and the privilege of being held close afterward. He focuses on that sweet reminiscence, how they had lain on their sides, naked except for a sheet over their legs, breathing heavily and feeling amazing. Frank had never had anything like that in his life, and it felt fucking awesome. His life would be _perfect_ if he got an A on his essay tomorrow.

And when the time comes, Frank is squirming in his seat, before his name gets called. He gets up and walks to the teachers' desk and leans against it, to hear their comments on the essay and what they graded it with.

It might not be a full on A, but it's an A minus and that leaves Frank equally satisfied. He's happy about this awesome grade, one of the highest in his class. Sister Janette and Mrs. Webster smile at him and congratulate him, proceeding to give him some good comments on the theme he developed and the adequate and impartial way he discussed it. They only advise him on the selection of resources and how to catalog them on the references page, and on the proper layout, specifically when quoting someone, and on the lack of an academic style which he will need to improve for college. He accepts every single comment with a smile on his face and a polite nod, because he really is content with the result, and thanks them in the end. He shakes their hands and turns back to his seat, grinning at his friends and hurrying to tell them about his grade. In the end, his friends have equally great grades, Lukas a nice B and Jonas the A he deserves.

At home, Frank shows it proudly to his mother and father, and to his grandfather too, and they congratulate him. Well, his grandfather barely nods at him and grunts whatever, but Frank will take it as a praise nonetheless. If they had band practice today, his mother would let them play for a longer time, but since Jonas and Jeremy can't make it, there won't be any practice.

There is someone he really wants to share the news with, so he lies to his mother, saying he's going to jam at Lukas's house, on his new synthesizer and stereo system. She only hums an agreement and tells him to come home in time for dinner.

"I'll try not to get distracted and lose track of time, but you can always call me!" he says as goodbye, and leaves the living room. He can see how his father is shaking his head, and hears him commenting on Frank's enthusiasm after this grade, but his father really has no idea.

Frank gets to Gerard's house with a grin on his face and a very hard dick in his pants. He's been scheming in his head the best way to tell Gerard what he came here to do, and ended up getting hard over it. It's the power of suggestive thinking. Frank runs upstairs but Gerard isn't sitting on the beanbag, and he doesn't answer when Frank knocks over and over again. He saw two cars in the driveway, Gerard's included, so he has to be home, but Frank can always try downstairs. He rings the bell and a girl opens the door, but Frank asks immediately for Gerard after the usual polite greeting.

"Ah, yeah, he's down here. I'll go get him." Frank throws his hands down the pockets at the front of his jeans to try to conceal his hard cock, since Gerard is with other people. Gerard comes to the door and smiles at him. "Hey Frank, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Frank replies, calmly. He doesn't move from the doorway, but shifts his weight from one foot to the other constantly because he's nervous. This isn't going exactly as he had planned, because Gerard isn't on his balcony smoking or contemplating the backyard. Instead, he's got company. "Unless you're busy?"

"No, I mean if you don't take too long." Frank shrugs and pulls a face that apparently convinces Gerard. "We're about to prepare dinner, but we can talk. Oh wait! Is it about your essay?"

Frank nods, biting his lip and moving his hands around in his pockets to adjust his very uncomfortable dick. This is taking too long and it hurts like a bitch. He just wants to get Gerard's hands down his pants before Frank tells him what he really wants them to try someday soon, but he accepts the invitation to go inside and waits patiently as Gerard introduces him to the couple in the kitchen. "This is my brother Mikey and his girlfriend, Alicia. This is Frank, the kid I've been helping with his essay for high school."

"Hi, we've met before," says Mikey, approaching with an outstretched hand.

"Yeah, a couple of times," Frank says amicably and nods at him, shaking hands with him, then with the girl. She has a lot of tattoos up her arm and Frank bites his lip, looking down at them. He has a sudden vision of his own arm filled with them and gulps, before looking back up at her and smiling.

"You like tattoos?" she asks, studying his gaze back down to her arm as she moves it down her side.

"Yeah, a lot," he admits, blushing a little. He didn't mean to get caught staring. She winks at him and wiggles her eyebrows, but he doesn't get what she means by that. It really doesn't matter. He turns back to Gerard. "Could we talk more privately?"

"You wanna go upstairs?" Frank nods, trying not to seem too frantic about it. He follows Gerard up the stairs, but pushes him down the hall and into the library, closing the door behind him. It could have been the bedroom, as they've been there before, but Frank has had dreams about this room so he's going to follow his mental plan in here. But he needs to clarify something first. "Just curious, do they know that we…" he trails off, gesturing again between the two of them, knowing that Gerard will understand him that way.

"I told Mikey. I mean, I tell him everything and he might have told Alicia, I dunno. Why, does it bother you? Because they won't tell anyone, I trust them."

"No. I'm just curious because she winked at me. Anyway." Frank pauses, forgetting all about Mikey and Alicia and whoever else. He brought Gerard here for a reason, and it obviously wasn't to tell him about his essay, but he starts with that. "I had an A minus on my essay." He grins, trying to suggest excitement about the grade.

"Oh that's great! Congratulations!" Gerard hugs Frank and it's not what Frank had in mind, but he can work from here. He entangles himself in Gerard's arms and nudges at Gerard's chin with his nose, bringing their mouths together. He pulls Gerard close, holding him there, and rubs his crotch down against one of Gerard's thighs. Gerard pulls back with a smack and he's grinning. "You're hard."

"Oh, really?" He kisses Gerard heavily until he groans and pushes Frank hard with those large hands on his shoulders. They land against a wall after a few steps, and Frank loves feeling trapped like this between the wall and Gerard's body. It's one of his fantasies, so he just works with it, rubbing himself all over Gerard, pressing their middles together, putting his hands on Gerard's ass and pulling him close. Gerard bites his lips and his tongue and moans into Frank's mouth frantically and well, there is nothing Frank dislikes about this.

Then without Frank even noticing, Gerard has his pants unzipped and slides one hand down Frank's pants, palming at Frank's cock. He hums and it shakes Frank's entire body, but the teenager tries to pull back and spit out, "I want you to fuck me."

Gerard groans and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he leans forward to kiss at the skin he exposes on Frank's neck by pulling on the collar of his T-shirt. Frank incites Gerard by adding, "Maybe not today, because you're having dinner with your family, and I have to go home too, but _soon._ I want you inside my body, opening me up, having your way with me. Will you, Gerard, will you fuck me through the floor?"

"Fuck yeah." Gerard moans loudly, biting on Frank's neck.

Then he's palming at Frank's crotch, getting his cock out and jacking it off quickly. Frank bucks up, hisses curses and moans into Gerard's hair as the older man seems to be focused on watching Frank's cock in his hand. Frank can see the appeal of it, because Gerard has a huge hand and Frank's cock just disappears under it and it's the most gorgeous thing ever. But then Frank is coming and it's all over.

When he's spent, he drowns in Gerard's kisses because they're the most passionate ones Frank has ever received. He feels like he's going to melt against Gerard, feeling so hot because of the sex that is literally oozing out of their every pore. Frank has to pull back from the kiss and admit, out loud, "For someone who hasn't broken their vows in eight years, you sure seem to know what you're doing. That's fucking hot."

"It's just something you never forget," Gerard replies, mysteriously, biting at Frank's bottom lip and tugging at it. He pushes Frank further against the wall and breathes against his lips. "And you're a fucking _virgin,_ Frank. You have no idea how exciting and important that is."

Frank moans, because he never thought his virginity could be so significant. "Why is it so important?"

"Because since the very first time I touched you, you've been mine. And you won't ever forget the way I kiss you, or the way I jerk you off, or the way I suck your cock," Gerard whispers, seducing Frank with his tone and with the slow flow of his words. Frank closes his eyes and listens simultaneously to Gerard's heavy breathing and his own rushed heartbeat. It's so amazing. Frank has no words or thoughts for it.

He wants to tell Gerard how much he loves all this, but Gerard leans in again into a bruising kiss, so Frank can't really talk. He drowns in Gerard's kisses and pulls at his hair and bites at his tongue, while Gerard fucks himself on Frank's thigh. And soon Gerard's body bucks up like he's coming. Frank pulls him by the hair and looks at him as he comes, looks at all these sex faces he pulls because they're fucking gorgeous. He feels all the hot waves coming off of Gerard's body through his orgasm and leans forward to kiss him again, slowly this time, letting the older man ride it out against his thigh.

Gerard falls down on the floor, sitting there against the wall. Frank does the same, sitting beside Gerard. He slides one hand up Gerard's thigh as the older man sighs, and wants to tell Gerard that this is more than just sex to him, that there is a whole emotional side to his closeness to the (almost ex) priest. It's such an intimate moment; he never wants to let go.

Gerard lets go of him, though, pushing Frank back, smiling and staring at him. He asks, "Are you aware of what you asked of me?!

"Yeah. I came here with the intention to ask you this, but things turned out a lot different than I'd thought, and even better." Frank smiles back, nudging at Gerard's face with the tip of his nose.

"Frank, I don't know if I should—"

"Wait, why?" Frank protests immediately, straightening up and looking down at Gerard's eyes. "I thought you liked what we do."

"And I do, I love it, otherwise I wouldn't keep doing it again and again. You're a virgin, though. You want _me_ to claim it, your priest?"

"But you're not a priest to me, Gerard. You're _you,_ " Frank says, in a light tone of voice. His smile widens of its own accord, because if there is someone Frank trusts with his virgin ass is definitely Gerard. He has guided Frank through so many things, including homosexuality and everything related to sex. "I want to do this with you. I've been living with this sexual tension for over a year, and sure it got better when we started doing things, but I want to go all the way. I don't wanna wait for a romance or whatever."

"Why not?"

Frank rolls his eyes. "Did you wait? Did you lose your virginity to someone you loved?"

"Of course," Gerard says like it's the most obvious thing in the world today.

"Well, where is he now?" Frank inquires smartassedly. He makes up a face that is meant to show how obvious this question is, because Frank isn't sure he believes in love just yet. He hasn't seen it or found it anywhere.

Gerard looks down. "I suppose I see your point."

"I just want it all, and I've been prepared enough for it in all of my dreams."

"Have you ever been fucked in them?" Gerard wants to know, sounding curious and intent on finding what the answer is.

"No," Frank says, giggling. He went through a lot of things in those wet dreams, but there must have been a reason why Dream Guy never went all the way with Frank. He has thought about that often, and he thinks he has an explanation. "I honestly think I wasn't supposed to get a complete visual, I mean the guy's face and his dick in my ass. I think I wasn't meant to see it before you came into my life."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, but I will do it." Gerard laughs lightly, his baby chuckle again, which Frank is sure he will grow very fond of if given the chance to.

Frank kisses him softly. "I can't fucking wait."

"I hope you're ready, though, because it might hurt," Gerard warns him, rubbing Frank's ass cheeks. He squeezes and pulls them apart, making Frank think about how different it will feel to have Gerard's big cock in between them, deflowering him for real.

"I don't care. I'm ready for it. I have fingered myself when jerking off, and you've done it to me too and I always liked it. I know it's different, don't give me that fucking face, but I can take it. You'll see."

Gerard laughs lightly, but cups Frank's face with one palm and stares deeply into his eyes. "If you're really sure…"

**

"Fuck yeah." Frank grins.

It's his first day off after school finished and he got his diploma, all top grades because he's been working his ass off. Right now, Frank's kneeling on Gerard's bed, hands on the headboard, waiting for Gerard. Frank feels him pushing the tip of his cock inside, slowly and Frank follows his previous advice and breathes easily, in and out, focused. He doesn't freak out. Gerard keeps pushing in. It's all perfect. This is what Frank wants.

Except he didn't expect it to hurt this much. It's terrible and Frank doesn't even dare to turn his head and look at Gerard because the expression on his face might show. He asked Gerard to do this, so Frank doesn't want to disappoint him now. Sure, it's his first time and he's not supposed to feel good right away, but he feels like he owes this to the older man. He is leaving the priesthood and considering a relationship with Frank and to Frank, there is no other way to do this.

Gerard has one hand rubbing at Frank's hip, as the other guides his cock inside. Frank feels the stretch of his body, feels the sting around his hole and it spreads through every nerve. It really fucking hurts and he curses under his breath, keeping his head down. Gerard seems to hear him, though. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," Frank lies and looks back over his shoulder, smiling. "I feel great." But what he really feels is Gerard pulling out and going back in, and his own skin spreading out to the intrusion like it's opening up in deep wounds. Frank fists at his cock, jacking it off slowly, to see if it'll pass and he focuses really hard, but he groans because his ass stings. He tries to disguise it with a moan and feels Gerard bending over his back and kissing his shoulderblades and his neck, leaving sweet little kisses there as he waits.

This is intimate, passionate and painful, but Frank tries to focus on the good things, like the heat emanating from Gerard and his warm kisses and his soft big hands wandering over Frank's skin until they fall across Frank's stomach and land on Frank's cock. Frank wiggles forward to meet his fist. In his ass, Gerard's cock moves with him and touches something inside that produces a completely different sensation. He tries it again and moans unwillingly, arching his back and gasping.

"Hmm, fuck yeah," Gerard moans against Frank's shoulder, biting there. He pushes in at the same angle and every time, the same rush of heat runs through Frank's crotch, up his stomach and spasms in Frank's throat. "Fucking finally."

Frank knows what he means. They have explored that same spot, Frank's _prostate,_ a few times before, when Gerard insisted on fingering Frank until he felt that the teenager was ready for full-on sex. They have also played around with a dildo that Gerard has in his closet; it was a really awesome experience, having Gerard lying by his side sliding a plastic dick up his ass.

Now that they've found that spot, Frank leans back into Gerard's kisses and waits for the next thrusts. Gerard's mouth is warm and wet and it's just what Frank wants, so he moans and pulls Gerard's hair. Gerard moans too, thrusting deep into Frank and it feels amazing. The pain Frank had felt is buried under the pleasure Frank can feel from the pressure on his spot. That's what makes anal sex so good and interesting; all these different sensations adding up to something incredible. He can't see Gerard's face, though, and that's not how he wants it.

"I want to kiss you, let me turn around," he begs, within a moan, because Gerard hits his spot again and presses there for a little moment. Then, Frank feels him pulling back.

"It's gonna hurt more," Gerard says, concerned, slowing down his next movements.

"I'll be fine. I just need you to hold me and kiss me. I fucking love it when you kiss me."

When he lies down on his back, Gerard spreads Frank's thighs further apart and brings them up a little until Frank is kind of curled up on the mattress. Then he enters Frank again and, this time, he kind of enjoys it. The stretch is still painful, like a million needles pricking the skin, but Frank embraces it by wrapping his arms around Gerard's shoulders.

It takes him a moment to adjust to the new position, but Gerard mouths at Frank's nipples and he forgets everything. He didn't know his nipples were so sensitive, but these last few weeks have showed Frank a whole new truth about his body and the best thing is that he gets to try it all out with Gerard.

Frank relaxes into it and then Gerard is all the way in and Frank feels so full he can hardly take it, the burning sensation making Gerard's cock feel even bigger. Their next kiss is fast and hot, hungry for what is to come, and Frank relishes that, welcoming the motion of Gerard's hips against his. But Gerard's kisses and Gerard's hand on Frank's thighs and the other thumbing at Frank's nipple, it all numbs Frank to the pain. He bucks up and waits, as Gerard looks for the perfect angle again.

Frank feels a little anxious because Gerard is jacking his cock and he's not sure how long he will last. Gerard starts moving faster in Frank's ass and well, here it comes. The rush of heat invades Frank's body again and he claws at Gerard's back, murmuring, "Please, please!"

"I got ya." Gerard moans and moves Frank's legs around his hips and, in the next movement, he has Frank crying out in bliss. Frank's ass is practically numb from the stretch and his brain is focusing only on that spot Gerard keeps hitting, and on Gerard's mouth that now bites at his neck, and on Gerard's hand wrapping around his cock again.

Suddenly, Frank is having all kinds of feelings and he cries out Gerard's name. His stomach boils and fills with the usual bubbles, but then Gerard bites on Frank's nipple and the bubbles burst and Frank comes. He yells a moan into Gerard's hair, pulling on it too and caves in to the feeling of his orgasm. It pulls at his skin from the inside and he shakes with the strength of it.

Frank doesn't know for how long he just lies there, humming, but the next thing he knows is Gerard's mouth moving to his shoulder and biting there. He closes his eyes and _feels;_ the sharp teeth on his shoulder, the hand still wrapped around his cock and the weight in his ass, hot and pulsating. It's too much to endure and Frank collapses on the mattress, arms and legs stretched out as Gerard pulls out from his ass. It leaves a strange feeling of emptiness there, although it's the phantom feeling of Gerard's cock.

"Fuck, I won't be able to ride my bike home after this," Frank complains, sighing.

And although Gerard laughs at him, Frank only opens his eyes and smiles at the older man. He's sitting up, tying a knot on the condom and getting up to dispose it. Gerard comes back and Frank is on his side, lying on his own come, but he's too fucked out to care. He does move one hand to his ass, trying to evaluate the damage, but he can't do it without looking. He sees Gerard sitting on the bed and taking his hand, and Frank catches a glimpse of blood. He isn't very concerned, because Gerard told him it was normal to bleed a little, so he smiles.

Gerard is smiling back at him, with the sweetest gaze upon his eyes.

They'll take care of the blood later. For now, Frank pats the mattress next to him and welcomes Gerard into his embrace. He ends up lying on his side, back to Gerard, and the older man spoons Frank again, wrapping one arm around his chest and holding his hand flat against Frank's sternum, toying Frank's nipple with one finger. Frank inhales happily, enjoying all these feelings in his chest. He can hear his heart beating softly now, and he can feel Gerard's breathing on his neck, and it's absolutely wonderful.

Months ago, Frank was a teenager tormented by his wet dreams and doubts over his sexuality, and now he's still the same teenager, but a little more confident and lying in bed with his priest.

**

**Epilogue**

It's been six months since Frank graduated from high school and three months since college started. The most important thing, however, is that it's been a couple of weeks since they got the letter from the Bishop saying that Gerard's laicization process was finally being processed.

According to what Frank knows, it takes much more than wanting to be in a relationship to be dismissed from the clerical state and from the vows of celibacy in particular, but he's sure that the Bishop was easily convinced by Gerard's smoothness and the fact that he wants to be with a man. God forbid they had, in their precious Church, someone who likes dick and fucks ass for pleasure, every other day.

Frank doesn't fight them, though. Gerard is going to lose his clerical state and will become a layman, leaving the damn clergy behind. He will simply be an Art teacher at a middle school in the countryside, and will also follow his lifelong cartooning dream, corresponding with fellow students from a superior art school in New York.

Frank is studying Criminal Psychology in college, only three hours away from home and two hours away from Gerard's new job, so he is officially living in the college dorms, financed by his parents, and unofficially living in Gerard's house. Frank comes over two or three times a week, since his classes end at five every day; there is only the inconvenience that he has to get up really early every morning after, but that's a sacrifice he's more than willing to make as long as he gets to spend the night in Gerard's bed, having sex or not.

There is nothing like their post-shower sex, though.

Gerard is sitting in the bathtub with Frank on his lap, fucking himself on Gerard's dick, all wrapped around the older man like a pet. This has never been exclusively about the sex, but for the past couple of weeks Frank has been feeling quite different around Gerard.

Later, when they lie in bed naked and relaxed, Gerard falls asleep pretty quickly. He always does. Frank loves lying there and feeling Gerard with him, spooning Frank from behind and most likely dreaming about the good things in their life.

Tonight, Frank turns around and faces Gerard's sleeping figure. His nostrils flare once in a while and sometimes he smacks his lips in his deep sleep, his eyeballs moving restlessly under his eyelids. Frank always enjoys watching it all.

He thinks about their life, the first months of their relationship as assumed boyfriends. He thinks about how Gerard's family was really supportive, and Frank knows it's because they've seen this happen before, with Gerard's grandfather. Frank's parents accepted it too, even though it's still strange to them how Gerard was once a priest and how he's seventeen years older than Frank. Frank's grandfather is a completely different story. He decidedly ignores that Frank exists and said he would do so for as long as Frank insists in living in sin, especially next to a shameful sinner like Gerard. He even cursed their relationship, but Frank isn't bothered by it. He believes they're stronger than that.

He thinks about next week, how they're going to Gerard's parents' house for the Christmas holidays, and how they're going to spend New Year's Eve with Frank's parents and he can only hope that his grandfather doesn't make any rude comments during their stay. They just want to live their life in peace, especially once the Church dismisses Gerard from all his duties as a priest and dispenses him from all the vows he took years ago.

Frank finds himself thinking about God, asking himself if He will understand that this is much better than repressing their feelings. They're being true to one another, and it's so much better than lying to and deceiving themselves, as well as God. Frank looks up at the ceiling, and imagines God looking down at them right now and feeling proud of two of His children running free under His blessing.

He looks to the side and Gerard is still breathing calmly, deeply asleep. This is definitely the most beautiful thing Frank has ever seen, and he's grateful for how often he gets to see it. He never expected this to happen. When Frank thinks about Christmas last year, he never imagined he would be feeling like this, but now he knows what it's like to actually fall in love.

He closes his eyes, wondering about Gerard's own feelings. Frank would very much like to tell him about the greatness of being in love with Gerard.

**Author's Note:**

> This goes out to everyone who supported this story, but some names must be mentioned and I'm [not] sorry this is so massive.
> 
> [Erika](http://kuriositet.livejournal.com/) is the most wonderful person in the world. A talented writer and a spectacular beta, you worked on this story with a fierce passion and I THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. You had to tear the rough draft to pieces, but it was definitely worth it. I praise you for the amazing job! Thank you, I love you ♥♥♥
> 
> [Janice](http://fierda.livejournal.com/), the fastest beta I've ever met. THANK YOU for your wonderful job and for being available to do this for me in such short notice. You're absolutely outstanding. Thank you, I love you ♥♥
> 
> And finally, THANK YOU [Megan,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matchboxbones) [Muranda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cccoffee) and [Lauryn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsoexpendable). You have supported me and listened to my flailing all along and you never get tired of it. I have a lot of gratitude to express towards you, for the massive enthusiasm and all the kind words. I love y'all ♥
> 
> All the religious themes mentioned in the story were thoroughly researched [here,](http://www.vatican.va) [here,](http://leavingthepriesthood.blogspot.com) [here](http://www.thebodyissacred.org/) [and here.](http://www.robgagnon.net)


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